


Disturbing the Peace

by Ballycastle_Bat, dun_lear_ee



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU Dean Thomas Raised by wizard father, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Animal Death, Asexual Charlie Weasley, Blood and Violence, Cults, Dark Magic, Emotional Baggage, Established Dean Thomas/Seamus Finnigan, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Internalized Homophobia, Multi, Mutual Pining, Not Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Compliant, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Tags Contain Spoilers, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-24
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-02-22 16:21:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 48,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13170642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ballycastle_Bat/pseuds/Ballycastle_Bat, https://archiveofourown.org/users/dun_lear_ee/pseuds/dun_lear_ee
Summary: The smoke had cleared, the dead had been buried, the castle repaired, arrests made. The physical damage of the war had been healed for the most part but the internal damage, that did not heal quite as easily.Years later, Harry still had the night-terrors, but the phantom pains in his scar had gone. Hermione still couldn't be touched, but she had stopped triple checking the wards by the hour. Ron still pretended he didn't hear Hermione's screams everytime he closed his eyes, but he didn't drink them away anymore.Slowly they are finding peace after everything.  Until it happened. A series of mysterious murders that made it clear that something was happening. Someone was Disturbing the Peace.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is fairly dark. It also deals with some AU- canon divergence. I hope you enjoy.
> 
> P.S. Dun_lear_ee is honestly my partner in crime for this fic, it wouldn't be where it is without her!

After an extraordinary effort to calm herself, Hermione picked up her mobile and dialled Harry’s number. The Christmas prior Hermione had gotten herself and her closest friends muggle mobile phones, so they could keep in touch easier and more securely.

In his office at the ministry, Harry answered on the third ring.

 

“Hey, Hermione, how are you?” he said. Back in his office at the Auror academy, Harry was shuffling around papers with his phone wedged between his shoulder and his ear.

“Hey,” she started and sniffed, trying to hold herself together.

“Are you sick?” He asked, stopping as his eyebrows pulled together.

“N-no. I know you're at work but I was hoping you could come home? There’s an emergency, I need you to come.” She pleaded, trying to stay composed. “I'm upstairs in Alma’s flat. I wouldn't ask you if it wasn't important,” she said, trying to hold herself together but her resolve was quickly crumbling again. She couldn’t think of anyone else to call. Harry was always the first person she called when she didn’t know what to do, right after her mother. This wasn't something her mother could help her with though.

“Of course,” He replied, putting his papers down. “I'm going to talk to Ron and then I'll be right over,”  he assured her and hung up, slipping his phone into his pocket.

 

He made his way down to Ron’s office and knocked on the door.

“Its op-en,” Ron said, his voice muffled by a mouth full of food. Harry opened the door and found Ron stuffing his face full of chocolate frogs. _Attractive_ he thought sarcastically. Ron’s desk littered with boxes, he cracked open another and pulled out the card which he added to a growing pile on his desk.

“Ron, you're gonna be sic- nevermind” he shook his head, sure his friend would be sick by the evening. “Hermione is having an emergency, she asked me to come by… I think something happened,” he noted. Ron stood up.

“So we’re leaving,” he said, eager to help his friend. He honestly wasn't sure what he could do but he always wanted to try.

“I need you to cover my class,” Harry shook his head. “How about you cook that dish of your mom's that Hermione really likes tonight?” He suggested. Ron nodded and with that, Harry left.

* * *

 

When he arrived at the apartment complex, he made his way upstairs and to Alma’s unit. He pushed the door open and made his way in and was greeted by Alma’s cat. A young, springly cat who didn't usually much care for Harry or Ron, approached him; letting out a soft meow before weaving itself around and between his ankles. He reached down and stroked the cats head, it was then that he registered the sound of Hermione’s sobs, coming from the hallway.

Harry rose from his crouched position and made his way over and found her seated up against the wall, her knees pulled into her chest. She looked small and vulnerable, a stark contrast to her usual presence. Harry drifted over to her and slid down the wall so he was seated beside her. He draped one arm around her shoulders and placed his other hand on one of hers.

“I'm here,” he told her, as there wasn't much he could really say. He could only assume that Alma had passed. She was over two hundred years old, which was fairly old, even for a witch. As he did, however, he noticed that Hermione was trembling. He frowned a little.

“Hey… It’s okay,” Harry assured her.

“I don't understand,” Hermione managed, choking on her words a bit.

“Well, Hermione… She was very old,” he told her gently, trying to console her. She shook her head.

“I came up to bring the mail and…” she winced. “There was so much blood,” her voice broke. “She would never hurt anyone! Who would do this?” She asked.

“Hermione, what are you talking about?”

“She was murdered, Harry. Someone came in here and killed her,” she told him. He pulled back to look at her and noticed the dried blood on her hands and clothes. “I thought this was over,” she whisoered. Harry hadn't seen her look like this in years, she was terrified.

“It’s over, Hermione. Let's get you out of here,” he said, helping her stand. She allowed him to lead her out, stopping only to lift up the cat in the living room and taking him with them. Harry pulled out his phone and called Ron as he lead their friend back to their apartment. 

 

Back at the academy, Ron was working with a class on detection charms. When his phone began to ring. He momentarily excused himself to take the call.

“Harry, how is everything going?”

“Not well. Ron, you need to come home, and find another Auror,” he instructed. “But don't grab just anyone… Make it someone we know,” he instructed. Ron hung up the phone and headed down the hallway toward the offices. He peeked his head into the first office.

“Nate,” he said. The man in the room was thin with rectangular glasses. He glanced up.

“Um, yes Mister Weasley?” He asked. Ron paused, he wasn't sure he’d ever get used to people practically his age calling him that.

“How are your detection charms?” He asked. The man looked confused but replied.

“They're fairly decent,” he replied. “Why?” His eyebrows raised.

“Room 202, I need you to take over Auror Potter’s class,” he told him before heading further down the hallway and turned into Seamus’s office. Seamus sat on his desk, his hands on either side of himself casually, Dean stood in front of him and they seemed to be chatting about something.

“Seamus, Dean,” he greeted them and they turned to face him. Dean looked a bit sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Seamus, I need you,” Ron told him. “There’s an issue,” He explained, giving Dean a look. “I'll also pretend That you were working and not chatting up your boyfriend,” he said, half joking, naturally.

* * *

When Ron and Seamus arrived back at the flat, Ron was the first inside and he found Hermione seated at the breakfast bar. He immediately went to her side.

“What happened?” He asked her, but before she had a chance to respond, his eyes fell on her bloodstained hands, which she still hadn't cleaned up yet. He took one of her hands to look closer. “Are you hurt?” He inquired. Hermione had rushed to Alma’s aid when she found her. Leaving her covered in the other woman's blood.

“I'm not hurt,” she said quietly. He placed one hand on the breakfast bar and stared down at her. He could admit to himself that he wasn't exactly the best with this type of thing.

“Then what happened?” He pressed. He had to fix this, he decded. She looked up at him and he froze. He hadn’t seen that look in her eyes in well over half a decade. At least, not when he was awake. The look of fear and emptiness and hopelessness that Hermione had seldom ever shown.

Ron sauntered over to the sofa that sat a few feet away to retrieve the throw that hung over the back of it. He returned to Hermione and placed it around her shoulders. He could hear Harry drawing a bath in the bathroom so he sat in the chair beside her, turning to face her. He held out his hands and she placed one of her’s between them.

He didn't know what to say. He could only sit and wait, either for her to say something or for Harry to explain the situation.

“You would think, that after everything,” she started. “That I would be able to handle this.” She laughed without humour. “I just, I can't understand,” she managed.

“What happened?” He pressed. “We'll take care of it,” he assured her as he heard Harry’s footprints moving down the hall.

“My mentor, Alma. She was killed,” Hermione managed and Harry interrupted.

“Hermione, the bath is set up. You should get cleaned up when you're ready."

“Thanks, Harry,” she replied and set the throw on the sofa again before heading to the bathroom.

“Seamus,” Harry said, snapping back into business mode. “Stay here while Ron and I investigate upstairs.” Harry certainly had faith in Hermione’s abilities, but he had faith in Alma’s too. He didn't know what they were dealing with and he was not going to take any chances. “I don't think Hermione should be alone, and no one comes in or out of this flat unless I give the ok.” instructed Harry.

Seamus gave a serious nod and began to so a security sweep, checking the windows first and then the door when they left.

* * *

Harry and Ron made their way up to Alma’s apartment on their own. The apartment was three floors above their own. They didn't speak to eachother on the way up.

“Who would kill a little old lady?” commented Ron when they reached the upstairs flat.

“I don't know,” Harry replied. “but we’re going to find out who,” he noted as he pushed the door open. “Look for anything that may have been tampered with,” he instructed. Ron began to investigate the living room.

“Nothing seems amiss, so this doesn't look like some kind of robbery job gone wrong,” Ron commented as he headed into the kitchen of the small flat.

“I don't see anything either,” Harry replied and they moved further into the apartment.

“She’s in here,” Harry noted when they reached the bedroom door. They took a moment to prepare themselves before pushing the partially ajar door open and stepping inside. They stepped inside to greeted by the old woman on the floor, her eyes wide open. Her empty eyes on the doorway. "I don't understand it,” Harry said, as they took in the sight of the blood surrounding her body. When he shut the door behind them, he stopped and his eyes went wide. He swallowed the bile rising in his throat.

“Harry," started Ron. "You need to have a look at this,” he told him. Harry turned to see that blood was splattered all up the length of  the door, and onto the ceiling like some sick, twisted spin art.

“Thought blood only did that in those bad muggle movies, mate,” Ron commented, swallowing back the bile that rose in his throat.

“I'm going to get Jens on this,” Harry told Ron, referring to their contact at St. Mungos. Ron nodded once.

“Hopefully we can figure this out. Ron made his way over to the bed and removed the covers.

“What are you doing?” Harry asked him as Ron pulled the sheet off the queen sized bed.

“We should cover her,” he explained. Harry admittedly still wasn't sure in what ways the wizarding world was different than the muggle world, but it seemed in many ways that muggles and wizards were the same. It was this that often have Harry hope for the future after the war. They covered her with the sheet and sent for Jens.

Jens was a large man, taller than Harry and even nearly a head taller than Ron with broad shoulders. He almost resembled a blonde, much older Charlie Weasley. One would expect to see him just about anywhere besides seated in a morgue all day. He was polite most of the time, but he was old enough to be their grandfather and didn't much like taking orders from “children” as he occasionally referred to them.

“Thank you for coming so quickly,” Harry greeted him. Jens nodded and made a sound, acknowledging that Harry spoke. “Please have a look at Miss Fairborne and tell us what you can figure out anything about her death,”

Jens looked at Harry. “This isn't Alma Fairborne from the Wizengamot is it?” He asked.

“Yes it is,” Said Ron. “I'm sorry, did you know her?” He inquired. Jens shrugged before speaking.

“No,” he answered simply, pulling back the sheet with one hand. The greying man began to take notes on the crime scene.

“Uh, why did you ask, mate?” Ron asked when several uncomfortable moments had passed.

“My grandmother who raised me was friends with her,” he explained. “Years and years ago,” he went on. “Got together to play bridge way back when. Before either of you were born,” he explained. This was turning into the longest conversation they'd ever had.

“I see,” Harry nodded. “I'm sure the news will be hard on your grandmother. Our condolences,” Harry said, trying to be polte.

“No need, she’s been dead for years,” he commented casually.

“That's rough, mate,” it was Ron who spoke now. “I don't know what I’d do without my mom,” he noted. Harry and Ron weren't sure if they felt more surprised or unsettled by the smile creeping across Jens’ face.

“Forget about it. I don't care about that blood purist old crone,” he said, waving his hand in a dismissive manner. “You two should probably go see if she has any next of kin.” He added, moving Alma to the stretcher with a flick of his wand. Harry and Ron left Jens to his work.

 

They returned to the ministry and made their way to the records office. The office was a large room with shelves that seemed to go upwards forever. The men had to dodge papers as they made their way to the window to the room which housed the more personal and confidential records.

There sat an elderly man with fire engine red hair, like a rodeo clown. When he saw Ron and Harry his hair changed into a bright yellow.

“Boys!” He smiled. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Alright, Buford,” Ron greeted him, Buford had worked at the ministry longer than anyone else. At two-hundred-and-ninety they had been trying to convince him to retire for the last several decades but he refused. He was the only Metamorphmagus besides Teddy and Tonks that they boys had met, and he loved to flaunt it.

“I'm afraid nothing positive,” He noted. “We need access to Alma Fairborne’s record. We need to check if she has any next of kin,” he explained.

“Oh dear,” he replied. “Let me see….” He hopped off the stool, revealing his short stature. Similar to professor Flitwhick there was speculation that he was part goblin, but no one had the guts to ask. He returned later with a stack of very old looking papers, however the last page was on fresh parchment. He went through them.

“She listed no relatives when she joined the ministry. Oh!!” He said, pointing to the last name. “She listed your friend, Ms. Granger as her granddaughter,” he informed them. “She has no other living relatives,” he continued. “Do you need these or should I put them back?”

“We’ll take them with us,” Harry said, taking the papers when Buford offered them. He wasn't sure what to make of this. They didn't have anyone to question. No family and certainly no suspects.

“Should I start her death record?” Buford asked.

“Hold off on that for now. There’s an investigation going on,” Harry explained. Buford looked surprised.

“You don't think someone… killed her, do ya boys?” inquired the old man, concern blatant in his expression.

“I’m afraid we’re positive someone killed her,” Harry replied.

“Oh dear… I can't think of anyone who would want to hurt her. She was a sweetheart. Ask anyone here, we all loved her,” he smiled sadly.

“Yeah. She was a nice lady,” Said Ron as he remembered his interactions with her. Hermione was closest to her but she had always been good to Harry and him as well.

“Well, if you need anything else, you know where to find me,” he explained, spinning around in his chair a he spoke.

The boys left.

“I always liked him,” Ron told Harry as they left. “He’s like Dumbledore, but more eccentric."

* * *

Downstairs, Hermione locked the bathroom door behind her and slowly stripped away her blood stained clothes before she ditched them in the hamper. She slid into the warm water of the bath her friend had prepared for her and began scrubbing at the dried blood on her hands.   
  
She thoroughly cleaned out every cuticle and scraped all remnants from beneath her nails. Her hands were raw and sore from repeating her actions, but she couldn't stop. Eventually the water grew cold, but a knock on the door knocked her out of her trance-like state.

“Hermione?” Came a voice from behind the door. She recognised the thick Irish drawl as Seamus right away. “You alright?”

“Yes, I'm fine!” She called, her voice a little bit shaky. “I'm sorry,” she apologised though she wasn't sure what for.

“Alright,” he said, not really wanting to pry. This was the opposite of his strong suit, Dean was better with emotional stuff than he was. Seamus was jokes and food, Dean was warm blankets and kisses. “Are you hungry? I can cook something,” he offered. Cooking was something he was good at truthfully.

“I'm fine,” she cAllen though the door. “I'm getting out now,” she stepped out of the tub. She put on the clothes that Harry set out for her and exited the bathroom. Seamus was still standing outside of the door. He stepped back and put his hands in his pockets.

“Are you sure you're not hungry?” He asked again, unsure of what else to day.

“Yes,” she replied. “I'm fine,” she wasn't looking at him though, she was scouring the floors.

“What are you looking for?” He asked, following her as she wandered into the living room.

“I'm looking for Greyson,” she told him, unable to find the kitten anywhere.

“Who?” He asked, confused. “Oh! Is that the smaller cat?” he asked, looking like he remembered something.

“Yes, where is he?” Hermione asked, concerned.

“Uh, your big cat sort of… threw him away. He’s in the garbage can,” he explained. “I tried to get him but well…” The auror held up his hands which were bleeding in evidence of the cat’s disdain for him.

“Crookshanks!” she scolded, going to retrieve the kitten. “You have to be nice,” she said seriously, Crookshanks ignored her.

“Are you sure you're not hungry?” he asked. He honestly didn’t have a plan B of any sort. Whenever Dean had a bad day he cooked, when Dean was sad, he cooked.

“I'm really fine,” Hermione isisited. “I'm going to go read on the balcony,” she noted, disappearing into her room and retrieving a book before heading out to the balcony. She shut the door behind her and got comfortable.

Once Hermione had calmed down enough she came back into the house, sitting down on the sofa which Seamus was leaning on the back of.

“So,” she started, brushing her hair back behind her ear. “I heard you and Dean are moving in together?” She stated, in an attempt to offer some conversation. He turned to face her and nodded.

“Oh yeah,” he answered, a smile spreading across his face “We get the keys soon. How about you? You and Ron getting together anytime soon?” He asked casually.

“What?” She questioned in slight shock. “There is nothing between Ronald and I. At least nothing like that,” she told him.

“It sure looked like there was something. between you two a couple hours ago,” he commented, moving to sit a few feet away from her on the sofa.

“Actually-” she started but paused as she realised she had no explanation for that. “I don't know what that is about,” She told him then sighed “But I can tell you for a fact it's nothing like that.” she shook her head, trying not to think about it. “Anyways,” she went on, grabbing a pillow to rest her chin on. This probably wasn't the time to discuss her love life, but at this point she was welcome to anything to take her mind off the situation at hand. “Men aren't really interested in me,” She admitted. Seamus laughed.

“Oh, men are interested,” Seamus told her with a laugh. She moved the pillow and crossed her arms.

“How would you know that?” She inquired, raising an eyebrow.

“I talk to guys, and honestly, who wouldn't be interested in you? You're pretty _and_ smart,” He complimented her.

“Thanks, but I don't really think that many guys are interested. I hardly ever get approached by guys,” she noted. “Unless you count Peaked-in-Secondary-school McLaggan who's weirdly obsessed with me and my nearly underage secretary who has a secret crush on me,” she noted.

“Guys ask me if you're single all the time,” he told her. She looked surprised.

“What do you tell them and who is asking?” She honestly wondered if Seamus was exaggerating. She had self confidence, of course. She just had never noticed many guys showing interest.

“Well, I usually tell them you don't seem open to dating,” he admitted. “Then suggest they approach you themselves,” he went on. Hermione frowned.

“I mean… I'm not particularly disinterested in dating,” She stated, a little defensively.

“Well, you don't exactly make yourself available,” he stated with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders.

“How exactly do I not make myself available?” She asked. “What am I supposed to do? Wear a shirt that says ‘hey, date me!’?” She crossed her arms.

“Well, you share an apartment with two single men,” he started. “Lots of people think you're with at least one of them,” He stated. “You also don't really make an effort to talk to guys,” he added.

“I make an effort to talk to guys,” she argued. Seamus gave her a doubtful look.

“I'm in and out of here all the time and you're almost always shut up in your room reading,” he noted. “If you put effort in I'm sure you would find someone pretty fast,” he told her. “I mean I’ve got half the personality you do and I'm in a serious relationship,” he shrugged. “How did we start talking about this?"

“I'm just happy to talk about anything else,” she admitted. He nodded.

“Well, then you should definitely put yourself out there more,” he encouraged her.  


It wasn't long before Seamus’s cell phone started to ring. He answered it straight away.

“Hey Dean,” he said, standing and making his way out to the balcony. Hermione watched him curiously as he spoke to Dean. He paced across the balcony. When he finally returned he set his phone in his pocket.

“What's wrong?” She asked, concerned.

“I don't like hiding things from Dean,” he told her. “Sorry,” he shrugged. It took Seamus a little longer than Harry and Ron to realise he had wanted to be an Auror. After two years on the job he was still getting used to the secrecy that came with it.

“Trust me,” Hermione started. “I'm sure he understands. It's frustrating when Harry and Ron have to hide things from me, but I know its to keep me safe,” she told him. Seamus nodded once.

“How about you have Dean over for dinner?” She suggested. “I'm sure Ron will want to cook,” She suggested and Seamus agreed.

* * *

When the boys arrived home Hermione started to prep the kitchen while Harry washed the veggies. When Hermione finished the kitchen she went to set a fifth plate.

“What's that for?” Harry asked.

“I invited Dean to dinner,” Hermione replied as Harry chopped carrots. Ron started to heat something in a saucepan. The trio wove between each other in the kitchen effortlessly, they mover and worked together like a well oiped machine, somwthing that had taken years of unintentional practice.

“You guys are so in sync,” Seamus laughed but as he spoke Ron bumped his head on one of the hanging pans causing a clammer and some choice words which caused Harry to stop what he was doing and bee-lined it to his bedroom. His friends could hear the lock on his door echo through the flat. Hermione watched him go.

“I thought we were passed this,” she sighed. As she spoke Ron was already moving, he made his way down the hall and knocked on the door until his friend let him in.

Then it was just Hermione and Seamus in the kitchen. She moved to take over the pot that was beginning to burn on the stove.

 

In his room, Harry leaned weakly against Ron as he stared off into space. “I'm fine,” he told Ron flatly.

“I'm sorry I hit the pans,” Ron apologised, unbothered by Harry leaning on his side.

Harry tilted his head onto Ron’s shoulder.

“It's not your fault,” he said plainly. “ugh I'm supposed to be taking care of Hermione,” he scolded himself. Ron raised his arm, and after a moment of hesitation he wrapped it securely around his best friend.

“We will, mate,” said Ron.

“It makes me so mad,” he admitted. “I hate that he still has power over me when I haven't even spoken to him in almost a decade. He admitted, referring to his uncle. “I feel so powerless. I fought Voldemort but I can't defeat my own mind with any of this, not my childhood, not the war,” Harry ranted. Ron started at the wall for a moment before glancing down at his leg against Harry’s. Ron’s arm tightened around him.

“I feel better now,” said Harry, rubbing his face.

“It gets easier,then it gets harder again... When I close my eyes I hear Hermione screaming,” Ron confessed in the moment.

“What do you mean?” Harry asked, concerned and surprised. Ron hadn't said much to Harry after the war about the demons he was fighting.

“Malfoy Manor, the horcrux hunt,” he clarified. “We were locked in the cellar while Bellatrix…” He closed his eyes tightly pinched the bridge if his nose as if he was trying to push away the memories. “I close my eyes and I just hear her screaming,” he took a deep breath. “At first I just tried to drink it away, but that made everyone unhappy,” He finished then stood. Harry reached up and wrapped his hand around Ron’s. The taller man didn’t flinch at the contact and even felt a little more at ease. He was worried about opening up to Harry. He squeezed his hand lightly as Harry stood and their hands separated when they left the bedroom and rejoined their friends.

 

At the table, Hermione was having a laugh with Dean.

“Did he try to make you food?” Dean asked, his tone slightly teasing.

“Only about a hundred times,” Hermione replied with a laugh. “I thought I was going to have to put a body bind charm on him, he just kept following me around the flat asking if I wanted pasta,” Dean let out a laugh and Semus went a bit red.

“Hey guys,” Dean waved to them. “I brought some wine. Seamus’s uncle owns a vineyard and the wine is to die for,” He noted. “You guys should try it before Hermione finishes the entire bottle,” he noted. Ron greeted them and politely declined. Instead, he went back to finish cooking. Dean’s comment earned him a light smack on the shoulder from the brunette.

"None for me, thanks." Ron declined as politely as possible.

“Oh my gosh Dean, I haven't had that much,” Hermione started. “Does he always do that though?” She asked, the wine slightly impairing her judgement a bit shaky as she nursed her third glass.

“Yeah, I think that's his first response to trouble,” he laughed.

“I thought you liked when I cooked for you,” Seamus chimed in, visibly offended.

“I never said I did-” Seamus cut shook his head and interrupted him.

“No it's fine, you and Hermione can have fun laughing about how useless I am, that's alright. Have fun,” He urged. Hermione frowned and set her glass down.

“Seamus, we were just jokin-” she started and Dean stood from the dining room table.

“I'm sorry,” he started. “Please excuse us,” Dean announced to Hermione,

They made their way across the large living room and onto the balcony. Hermione could see them through the sliding glass door. She watched them curiously as Ron and Harry focused on the dinner.

Hermione could see that they were talking, but couldn’t hear anything. She could, however, interpret their body language. Dean had an open stance, his arms partially outstretched towards Seamus. Seamus on the other hand kept his arms tightly crossed. Dean placed his hands on his boyfriend’s upper arms and rubbed them gently with his thumbs. Seamus’s walls seemed to melt away as he un-crossed his arms and stretched up very slightly to kiss Dean on the lips lips. They soon returned inside.

“You guys are better at making up than any of us,” Harry laughed with a smile.

“Communication is key,” Dean replied, a smile spreading across his face.

Ron turned off the stove, moving the pan off the heat and onto a lot holder that laid on the table.

The group talked and ate merrily. It had been too long since they'd had friends over like this. They were definately happy about that, but they all had silently wished it was for better circumstances.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seamus's job and lack of communication is causing problems in his relationship with Dean. 
> 
> Hermione struggles to deal with Alma's death while getting more comfortable with Seamus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An: I'm doing my best to thoroughly edit the chapters before I post them because my beta isn't always available. I'll continue to fix mistakes as I go along. apologies in advance.

    The next morning Hermione awoke from a very dark sleep. She couldn't even remember going to bed. Without thinking Hermione shot up from her bed and made her way into the bathroom. She always had breakfast at Alma’s on Wednesdays, it was her day off. Hermione managed to shut the door behind her and look into the vanity mirror before she stopped. She had forgotten for a moment that Alma was gone.

Suddenly, it began to feel like the world was crashing down around her. She was only allowed a a few brief moments of peace before the events of the previous day invaded her thoughts. Alma was dead, and no one knew why. There were no leads, no suspects, aside from herself.

There wouldn't be anymore Wednesday morning breakfasts or trips to Paris, or anywhere else for that matter.

There was a knock on the bathroom door and Ron’s voice came through, muffled by the wood paneling.

“Are you alright, ‘mione?” He asked. Hermione opened the door and wiped her eyes. She hadn't realised she’d been making noise.

“Yes,” She said plainly. “I just… Sort of forgot about everything for a second,” She went on, not looking directly at him. She hasn't realised she’d been crying, but Ron had heard her from his room and came to check on her.

“Okay,” he said slowly. “Well… I don't have a lot of stuff today.” he started “if you want, I can just go and get the paperwork and just stay here today,” he offered.

“No, no!” she insisted, shaking her head. “I'm fine really, you don't have to stay,” She forced a smile. “Go to work, I have stuff to do,” and with that, Ron reluctantly left.

Not long after Ron left however, Seamus strolled right through the front door and into to the kitchen. Within minutes he had some of Molly’s leftovers. It was while he was shoveling cheese and mushroom raviolis into his mouth that Hermione entered and let out a shocked gasped.

“Seamus-Finnigan!” she scolded. He paused and looked at her.

“Hi ‘mione,” he said around a hunk of cheese.

“You can't just come in here, I could have been indecent and you startled me. I could have hexed you,”  She crossed her arms.

“But you weren't indecent, and I lived to tell the tale.” he replied, eating another ravioli, swallowing thickly. Hermione rolled her eyes _men_ she thought. “Also, no offence, but even if you weren't decent I wouldn't be looking at you,” Said Seamus, shoving another full fork of food his mouth. “I was thinking,” he started again. “You might want to come see Dean and I’s new apartment.” He told her as he returned to the fridge. The moment he lifted the milk carton near his lips she Hermione snatched it out of his hands and got him a glass.

“Why are men like this,” she muttered to herself, starting to fill the glass, Seamus laughed and put his hand on her wrist. Hermione who on the outside seemed unphased by the sudden contact, she could feel herself starting to shut down. The world around her started to feel a bit foggy. She had dealt with this long enough to recognize what was happening. She quickly identified the nearest thing to her, which was seamus’s shirt. The logical and rational side if her brain was telling that nothing had changed. She was safe and they were all safe. It told her that Seamus was next to her, not the crazed death eater from years passed, but still she felt herself start to go adrift.

She reached out and touched the sleeve over his left bicep. _Tan, soft, cotton, thin, mustard stain on the pocket_. She thought to herself silently in an attempt to stay grounded. Seamus raised his eyebrows at her.

“Oi...,” he started uncomfortably, “What are you doing there, Hermione? He asked, his Irish drawl coating his words. She stopped and realised that her hand was wrapped around his upper arm. She stepped back and removed her hand.

“Sorry…” she said, shaking her head. “I was… grounding,” she noted. Seamus nodded once. He wasn't exactly sure what that meant. She straightened up and set the milk carton down.

“What do you mean?” He asked after a second, putting away the carton for her.

“Sometimes I get a little lost,” She explained. He raised his eyebrows and she sighed. “I don't really want to get into it, I just sometimes I feel disconnected from myself,” she told him. “Please don't grab me again,” she stated. Seamus nodded.

“Sorry. I'll make sure I don't.” He replied. “Are you alright?” He asked.

She nodded, moving around him. “I just need to go off on my own for a little bit,” she told him. “Sorry to cut our visit short.” She said, heading into her bedroom.

Once she was gone he did a check on the wards. Once that was finished he pulled out his phone and called Harry’s office. He answered on the first ring.

“Auror Potter,” he greeted. Seamus slid his wand into his pocket.

“Yeah, it's Seamus. I got here and Hermione went back to her room. Do you want me in or out?’ he asked.

“I want you to stay inside and close to her,” Harry explained. “We’ve just about exhausted our resources finding anyone connected to Alma and we have to consider the fact that someone did this to get to Hermione,” he explained. “I'm going to send someone to survey outside,” He noted. Seamus sighed and rubbed his temples.

“I really think you should get someone else. I'm not good at this. I already freaked her out twice,” he noted.

“What do you mean?” Harry asked.

“I don't know, I acted too casual and she was startled that I was here. Then I grabbed her and she got kinda spacey…” He went on. “Isn't there another auror you could put on this?” He asked.

“I'm afraid not. I know Hermione and if she realises we're guarding her she won't cooperate.” He explained. Seamus nodded.

“Try to get her out of the flat,” Harry suggested. “I have to go handle some things,” he noted, hanging up.

After giving Hermione about an hour or so to herself he made his way to her room and knocked on the door.

“Hey, wan to head into diagon alley with me?” He asked.

Hermione closed her book.

“I'm fine,” she told him.

“I'm just going to get Dean’s new book,” he told her. She stood and opened the door. That made her agree. She never passed up a chance to get more books.

 

* * *

 

 

After shopping they stopped for lunch in the leaky cauldron.

“So,” she said, taking a bite of one of her French fries. “What made you decide to hang around all day?” She asked him. He rubbed the back of his neck.

“Ah… well Dean and I are fighting,” he half lied. “He's off work today so I decided to hang around yours,” he explained.

“Oh…” She replied. “What about work?” She inquired.

“I took a few days off, for the move,” he informed her. She nodded.

“You can talk to me,” she told him. “But don't feel like you have to,” She added. Admittedly she wasn't the best with the subject. Paired with the fact that while they were good friends, he was closer to the boys than he was to her.

“Well,” he started. “There’s just a lot going on,” he admitted. “Dean wants me to tell my family about us,” he explained. “But I'm just not ready,” He wasn't lying. Seamus refusing to tell his family about the nature of their relationship was causing some issues.

“Well, I mean… You are moving in together, “ She stated, a little confused. “Isn’t it now or never?” She inquired.

“My dad’s a muggle, remember? Dean’s half and half like me but he doesn’t know his muggle mom. Was raised by wizards, he was.” He told her. She paused, the wizarding world was slightly more open minded in many ways, especially when it came to things like sexuality. Of course you could find wizards who were completely against the thought of two men or two women being together, but they were usually quiet. It was also not surprisingly pureblood families, and even then it wasn't exactly to the extent that it was with wizards. The Wizarding world was just more focused on blood status than sexuality.

“Do you know how he feels about that sort of thing?” She asked. The look on his face answered Hermione’s question. He didn't meet her eyes. She reached out and placed a hand on his.

“You'll have to tell him eventually.” She stated. “But you have friends to lean on,” she assured him. It was then that Hermione felt a chill down her spine. She tried to shake it but she couldn't.

“Let's leave soon,” She suggested. “I feel like someone’s watching us,” she said, a hand on the back of her neck.

“There's no one watching us,” he said, it was a lie of course. He couldn't risk Hermione realising she had security personnel on her.

“How do you know?” She asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Hermione. You're at lunch with an auror. This is my job, if someone was watching I would have figured it out already. You need to trust me,” he said. “I didn't think you thought so low of me,” he added. Hermione tried to relax at his words.

“I guess you're right,” she replied. “I would still like to go home,” she added. “I'm really tired,” and with that they left.

For the next few days, Hermione and Seamus continued to spend their days together. In her altered state she didn't pick up on anything.

 

* * *

 

Later in the evening on Sunday, long after Seamus had gone home and Ron and Harry has gotten ready for bed, There was a knock on the door.

Hermione placed a bookmark in her current book and rose from the sofa, crossing the room to the door. She took a look through the peephole and was surprised to see that Dean Thomas was standing in front of their door. She opened it quickly.

“Come on in,” she said with a small smile.

“Sorry for showing up so late,” he slipped inside and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Do you have a second to chat?” He asked her. She stepped over to the kitchen area and started a pot of water on the stove as she spoke.

“Of course, Dean,” she replied. “What kind of tea do you like?” She asked as she went over to the tea drawer

“Anything is fine,” he smiled. “So… You and Seamus talk right?” He asked after a moment. She stopped and turned to face him.

“Quite a bit yes. Why do you ask?” She frowned slightly as she spoke. Preparing the cups kept her and busy.

“I don't normally air our dirty laundry but he's been quite distant,” he explained. “I was wondering if he told you anything. He's almost never around anymore,” he added.  “He says he's been working late a lot but that could mean anything,” He noted. Hermione stopped.

“I’m not exactly sure where my boundaries lie with this.. but he's been here,” she told him.

“What do you mean?” Asked Dean. it was then that the kettle decided to let out a loud wail.Hermione quickly pulled it off the heat and began to fill the cups with a steady hand.

“I mean,” she began. “ for the past several days he’s been camped out here,” she explained. “He did mention you two were fighting,” she added.

“What? I mean we had a fight about his dad a while ago, is he still hung up on that? When does he come?” He asked as they moved their conversation to the table.

“Sometime after the boys leave for work,” she noted.

“That doesn't make sense,” he interrupted. “Sorry,” he added before continuing. “He does go to work in the morning, I call in to bring him lunch and Clause says he's out” He sighed. “I don't know, maybe he got Clause to tell me he's at work?” He asked. Hermione thought for a moment and everything suddenly clicked. Feeling like she was being followed, Seamus acting weird in general, and clingy.

“Dean,” She started. “I think Harry told Seamus to act as security detail for me, but didn't want me to know. That would explain why he would have only said he was working. None of us are allowed to talk about the investigation. Not that he isn't welcome here, but he has other friends and he did stick really close to me. So I don't know why I didn't find that suspicious before.” Dean became visibly more relaxed at his words.

“I was worried,” he admitted with a small laugh. “Now I feel silly, I'm sorry I came here and bothered you,” he shook his head with a sigh. Hermione touched his arm comfortingly.

“I'm actually glad you came by. While you're here… There is something that I need to talk about with you,” she told him. He sat back down and nodded.

“Oh, really?” He asked her.

“I know it isn't my place, but you should be patient with Seamus when it comes to his family,” she noted.

“He told you about that?” He asked. “I feel like he's hiding me from his family, like he's ashamed of me,” he admitted.

“It's not like that…” she tried to assure him. “He confided in me because sometimes Wizards and muggles are quite different,” she told him.

“How do you mean?” Dean asked. Being raised by his wizarding mother, hasn't experienced much muggle culture.

“Well, you see. Muggles have different priorities and then we have religion that also complicates things,” she explained. “Muggles can very often more caught up in things like race and sexuality. Where as Wizards often tend to put more focus on Blood status and species,” she explained. He frowned slightly as he started to understand what she was saying. “Based on a chat I had with Seamus… I don't think his father is very open to the idea of his son being with a another man,” She explained. “He's not ashamed. He adores you. He's just protecting himself and you,” Hermione allowed the information to sit in.

“You don't think he would hurt Seamus, do you?” He asked after a moment. Hermione thought for a moment.

“I don’t know,” she said softly. “But I think you should be careful about pressuring Seamus to talk to his dad,” Said Hermione.

“If you'll excuse me I have to go have a word with the head Auror.” She said and stood, heading to Harry’s Room.

 

 

She pushed the door open but Harry wasn't alone. Ron’s head was rested on his lap and as the redhead stared at the wall Harry’s fingers gently made their way through his fringe.

“Harry James Potter-!” She started. When she took in the site of her two best friends, she hesitated in surprise before.

Ron flew into an upright position and covered himself with a pillow. Not that there was anything to cover, he wore a vest and long pyjamas pants. If the situation were different, she would have laughed at him; but right now she was angry.

“Oh boy, I know that look,” Said Ron, I'm out of here mate good luck-” he started but Hermione grabbed the back of his vest as he headed out.

“Not so fast. I need to speak with both of you,” she said seriously.

“I can't believe you two have absolutely no faith in me,” she started. “This is the opposite of what I need right now,” she told them. Harry raised his eyebrows.

“What do you mean?” asked Harry, unsure of where her outburst was coming from.

“Having Seamus baby sit me? I'm grieving Harry, I'm not weak,” she said, she wasn't sure how to feel in that moment, part of her felt betrayed that they didn't tell her anything, another part of her felt angry.

“Hermione I don't have time to talk about this,” Harry sighed, running his temples but Ron stood up.

“Hermione. We found more information about Alma’s murder. This is so much bigger than any of us,” Ron admitted. “We can't release anything right now, we have to tie up some loose ends and then we’ll tell you everything,” He tried to assure her.

“I want you to tell me everything you can,” she insisted and Harry took a deep breath and stood up.

“All I can tell you as that we’re investigating as much as we can,” Harry told her. “This case has been made a priority four,” He told her.

Hermione took a moment to process the information she was given. She didn't know much about auror terminology but she knew wizarding law. Priority Four was a rank reserved for very extreme cases. Priority one was for things like petty theft and assault. Priority five, the highest was for threats to government itself. The only reason this case would be bumped to a priority four would be if there were more victims or there was expected to be more victims.

“Okay,” she said after a moment. “I'll accept that, for now. But this involves me too,” she decided.

“Also,” she turned to Ron. “ _You're_ being weird,” she pointed out.

“I'm not being weird, Hermione,” he crossed his arms.

“Really? Because when you're home you're either physically attached to Harry or standing so close to me that I can feel you breathe. That's pretty weird to me,” She noted. The redhead frowned deeply.

“You're exaggerating,” he insisted as he crossed his arms.

“You were in Harry’s lap when I walked in here,” Hermione accused. Harry moved to take up the space between them.

“It’s been a rough week for everyone,” he noted. “Let’s go to sleep and we’ll sit down and have a solid talk in the morning, how does that sound?” Harry asked. Hermione hesitated but then nodded.

“Okay.” She replied before heading out to say goodbye to Dean.

When Dean was in his car he pulled out his phone from his pocket and texted Seamus.

 

Dean: _r u up?_

Seamus: _Ya. 4 another few hours._

Dean: _I’m going to come by_

Seamus: _Ok. See u soon_

_Dean: I'm driving in the next wizarding village over so I'll be a little while._

 

Dean pocketed his before pulling out of the parking lot of the apartment complex.

 

* * *

 

When he arrived at Seamus’s flat he made his way up up to 2B, rapping on the door with his knuckles. Seamus opened the door with a grin.

“Missed me?” He teased. Dean stepped inside and rolled his eyes.

“What were you doing before I showed up?” He asked, as he wanted to ensure that he wasn't interrupting anything Seamus was doing.

“I was actually going to sit down and watch the new Pirates of the Caribbean movie,” He noted.

“Oh, the World's End one you were talking about?” He asked, stepping on his heels to remove his sneakers.

“Ya. Want to come watch with me?” He asked.

“I've never seen the other ones, will I understand it?” Asked Dean.

“Probably not,” Seamus smirked. “But we don’t have to pay attention,” he murmured, pulling at Dean’s jacket, leading him further into the flat.

“You're terrible,” Dean playfully scolded him and leaned down slightly to bring his lips to Seamus’s. “But,” he objected when he pulled back. “I actually came here to talk to you,”

“We can talk after the movie,” Seamus replied.

“‘Shay,” he laughed softly. “We can talk and then I'll sleep over, how does that sound?” he suggested. “Because I know for a fact that you have to be up early tomorrow,” he replied. Seamus headed over to the sofa and picked up the remote so he could click off the television.

Seamus headed into his room and Dean followed. Seamus sat on his bed and patted one side.

“I want to talk about your family,” He sat beside Seamus.

“So what you're saying is, you came over, at half ten, to have a row,” he replied.

“No,” Dean took his hand. “I came over to apologise,” he explained.

“Really?” He looked at Dean doubtfully.

“I talked to Hermione and I realised that you were right. I wouldn't understand. I should have trusted you and I'm sorry,”

Seamus laid back on the bed, his hands under his head.

“It's just really messy,” Said Seamus.

“Then we'll tell them whenever you decide. But. You also have to communicate with me better in the future.” Dean promised and laid down beside him. “For now, let's focus on moving into our new place. We have to make some decisions about furniture. Sorry but your sofa needs to go into the nearest garbage dump yesterday,”

“I love that sofa!” Argued Seamus. “I bought it when I first moved out,”

“It is covered in stains, and it smells terrible,” Dean countered.

-“That's what magic is for,”

-“That couch needs way more than magic,”

“I suppose you're right. However, if my sofa gets the purge so does your kitchen table,” He replied.

“You don't like old wobbly?” Dean asked, pretending to be deeply offended.

“Dean, every glass you put on it spills everywhere,” he reminded him.

“That's an easy fix, just only fill glasses up halfway,” he laughed. Seamus gave him a look. “Okay, old wobbly and the sofa from the black lagoon are staying put,” Dean agreed with a laugh.

“So what else did you and Hermione talk about?” Seamus asked.

“Well, she knows now that you're security for her and that she can't tell me anything else,” He shrugged.

“What brought that up?” He asked.

“I asked her about you,” he admitted.

“What about me?” He turned I've on his side to face Dean who was still looking at the ceiling. He smiled a bit, he would never admit but he was looking forward to living with Dean and waking up with him.

“I was worried that you were having second thoughts about moving in with me,” he admitted. “You were working later than normal and we hadn't really talked since we had dinner with our friends,” he admitted.

“My job really messes with things,” he sighed. “It's really messy right now but I'll tell you when I have days off and when the case is over,” he assured him.

“I think I was just being paranoid, huh?” He asked.

“Well, things are different now,  I don't think we’re used to the disconnect yet.” Seamus assured him. “Trust me, I hate not telling you things just as much as you hate me not talking about it,” he started to ‘walk’ his fingers up Dean’s arm.

“I can tell you what Hermione and I did this week,” he offered.

“Sure,” Dean smiled.

“The first day I spent over there we went to Diagon Alley and picked up the books for your shop and then got lunch,” he told him.

“Okay, you're definitely lying,”  Laughed Dean. “You're telling me, you got Hermione in and out of a bookstore by lunch?” He asked and Seamus laughed too.

“We had to call six other aurors to pull her out,” he joked.

“I would believe that,” Dean chortled.

“Hermione reads a _lot_ ,” Seamus told him. Dean turned over to face him.

“You're just learning this now?” Dean asked doubtfully.

“Well, yeah, but she reads more than you would think. I've spent almost every day this week right up next to her and I swear she is always looking at a book.” Seamus elaborated.

“That doesn't sound possible,” laughed Dean. Seamus ran a hand through his hair and yawned.

“What did you do today?” Seamus asked, walking his fingers up Dean’s thigh which was now tangled up with his.

“I put the shelves up in the shop,” he told him, referring to the Apothecary shop he was opening up in a nearby wizarding village.

“I'll have to see them tomorrow after work,” Seamus yawned and slid his arm around Dean as they talked about their week.

 

* * *

 

In the morning, at the Golden Trio’s flat Hermione sat at the kitchen table, focused on her tea.

“Is Seamus coming today?” She asked Harry. This was the only question she knew that she could get an answer about.

“Yes,” Harry took a sip of his coffee. “He should be here soon,” he took a sip of his coffee and sighed. He opened his mouth to say something then stopped.

“If you have something to say, go right ahead,” She said plainly, she wanted to beg him for answers. She wanted to blow up at him, she wanted cry but she didn't have any tears left.

“I want you to go easy on Ron,” Harry stated. He kept his eyes on his coffee as Hermione looked up at him.

“Me? You guys are the ones giving _me_ a hard time!” she scoffed and stood to place her cup in the sink.

“Ron is busting his ass to keep you and your entire branch safe,”  Harry blurted. Hermione looked at him confused.

“What?” Hermione asked, surprised.

“While you've been here the entire ministry has been silently locking down. Ron and I are pulling every single string we have to tighten security as much as we can without notice, he’s in charge of the paralegal department,” he informed her. “This is bigger than all of us,”  he looked up to meet her eyes. “Please. Trust us.” He implored her, his eyes meeting her.

“I want to know what security you have on me,” she replied simply. She knew her rights, she was entitled to this information if she asked outright.

Harry set his cup in the sink before reaching to turn on the water. He chose his words carefully.

“We have Seamus upfront, Taylor following at thirty yards and Rodriguez on reserve for emergencies.” He informed her. Hermione stopped. She looked up at Harry, finally realising how serious the situation really was.

“I'm sorry. I'll try to be more compliant, but you can't shut me out of the loop. You need to tell me what you can,” Said Hermione.

“Good Morning, Seamus,” Harry said, looking past her to the man who now stood near the entryway of their flat.

“Hi, Harry,” he replied. Harry grabbed an apple off the table and headed out the door.

“I'm sorry I couldn't tell you that I was on duty,” he said. He had his hands in his pockets his eyes on her.

“Don't worry,” She replied with a smile. “Tea?” She offered.

Seamus shook his head.

“Alright, well I'm sorry that today will be a bit boring.” She told him. “I'm going to do some shopping at the muggle shopping centre in London,”  she told him.

“I'm fine with that,” he told her.

“Did you and Dean work everything out?” Asked the brunette, wondering how things were going for them. She kept it casual as she check her purse to ensure she had everything she needed.

“Oh yeah,” Seamus nodded and walked out the door with her. While she locked the flat behind her he went on. “Last night he came home and we talked it out. I didn't realise how much it was hurting him that I wasn't telling my dad about us,” he admitted.

“I hope I didn't overstep any boundaries,” Hermione interjected, putting her keys in her bag.

“Not at all. I'm actually kind of glad you did,” he shrugged. “I never could have found the words to explain it, and also with him worried about me being distant. I'm glad you were able to tell him something,” He smiled at her. She was surprised that he seemed to be in a good mood.

“So you guys are good now?” She asked.

“Yeah,” he nodded.

“Well,” She started. “It looks like you have some brainstorming to do,” she teased.

“What do you mean?” He asked, his eyebrows pulling together.

“Well, you'll need a new excuse to come around every day now that I know you and Dean aren't fighting,” She responded. A smirk spread across his face and he touched one hand to his heart and stretched out the other towards her.

“You’re right. It’s time you knew the truth. I'm in love with you. Can't stay away.” He pouted. “A chuisle mo chroí,” he breathed, over playing his accent for dramatic effect. “Please be my secret mistress,”

“Oh of course,” Hermione replied. “It all makes sense now,” She replied.

“Which car are we taking?” She asked.

“Mine is right here,” he headed over to an old two door in a grey-green colour that Hermione found atrocious. She sat herself in the front seat and Seamus pulled out of the parking lot.

“Can I ask you something?” Asked Hermione after a few miles of silence.

“Ya?” He asked, more focused on the road than anything else. He knew his way to the shopping centre was as he had been a few times with Dean.

“What does being in love feel like?” She asked him despite herself. She immediately regretted her decision.

He raised his eyebrows, surprised at the question.

“You've never…?” He trialled off, surprised at first, but the then he remembered that she really has always been more interested in books than boys. Having only dated Victor Krum briefly. “Its different for everyone, I think,” he admitted. “But for me it's that Dean is the life I want. He's the person I want to call everytime something good happens, and not to get mushy but my heart feels warmer when I'm with him,” he added.

“I've only read about it in books,” she explained.

 

“Well, what kind of relationship are you looking for?” He asked her. “Do you want to settle down or date?” as he spoke they pulled into the shopping centre lot. it was still early so there weren't many people, this put Hermione at ease.

“I'd like to settle down a bit,” she told him. “Maybe find a nice guy to eventually move in with,” She got out of the car. They started to make their way inside the shopping centre.

“Well, I've got this cousin, Fergus,” he stated. “He's nice enough. A couple years older though. When this is all handled I could set you guys up when everything is dealt with on this end,” he noted.

 

“Uh… Which side of the family?” She questioned hesitantly as they made their way to the bookstore on the first floor.

“My mom’s,” he answered, then took a pause for himself. “But why would it matter?” He asked her as they looked through the books.

“I mean I grew up with mugg-” - someone passed them, making her pause - “Irish… people,” she said. “But a lot of stuff has happened that I don't think anyone on your dad’s side of the family would understand,” she shrugged and picked up a few books.

“What do you mean? Both sides of my family are Irish,” He asked not really sure where she was going with this. She stared at him for a moment, waiting for him to get what she was alluding to.

“Oh!” He said after a moment. “Yes. He’s the son of my mam’s brother,”

“That's good,” She replied. “While it would be nice to go out with someone who doesn't know me, it's better than someone I can't tell about magic unless were married or something,” She shrugged.

“I can respect that,” he replied and Hermione picked out a few more books before they headed to the next store.

“Why are we here?” Seamus asked as Hermione put a pack of men’s socks in her basket.

“Harry’s somehow misplaced all of his socks and Ron needs a new dress shirt,” She explained.

“Hermione, you know they can take care of themselves right?” He asked. “I mean, they are adults.” he stuffed his hands into his pocket as he spoke.

“You don't know them,” she replied simply.

“I shared a room with then for six years, Hermione,” he replied, admittedly a bit offended.

“Ron apparently doesn't know how to do laundry and he thinks it's totally fine to wear muggle sweats to work. I practically have to dress him.” she noted. “Harry barely takes care of himself,” she sighed.

“Anywhere you want to stop?” She asked as they made their way through the first floor of the shopping centre.

“I can't have anything weighing me down,” he responded. “I'm on duty, remember?” As he spoke Hermione nodded.

“Oh right. I had almost forgotten,” Said Hermione in sincerity. She and Seamus had definitely gotten closer in the last week. She had learned that he was easy to be around and actually a decent guy despite the attitude he had as a teenager.

“What's next on the list?” He responded.

“Let's get lunch, I'm hungry,” she told him. He followed her to the food court and hovered uncomfortably behind her as she got in line for a sandwich shop.

“What are you ordering?” She asked casually as she read glanced over the large menu that gung behind the counter. “There are about six people in front of us so we have time,” She added in the same breath.

“I'm not,” he replied, still surveying the area, trying to be discreet about it.

“Fine, I’m ordering for you,” she replied and when it was there turn she ordered two chicken meals and some drinks.

They made their way to a table in the back.

“So,” She started. “Any plans for the weekend? I'm going to talk Harry into giving you time off,” she said as she ate her fries.

“Not really. But I guess I'll finish moving into the new flat,” he smiled.

“That sounds like great fun,” she replied, then noticed he hadn't touched his food. “Eat.” said Hermione, taking a sip of her drunk.

“I'm on duty,” he replied simply, not looking at her.

“Seamus Finnigan I will call your mother.” She replied.

“Oh sure you'll call my mother. I'm twenty six, Hermione,” he scoffed.

“Wouldn't be the first time,” she shrugged, pulling out her mobile phone.

“What?” He looked at her, surprised. “You mean that was you?” He demanded, surprised.

“Which time?” Hermione inquired curiously, picking at her food. “When I watched you twist your ankle and refuse to see a healer for a month or then time you got a concussion but didn't want your work mates to laugh at you so you pretended to be fine?” She listed a few times that Seamus had neglected to care for himself.

“The ankle,” he replied, starting to eat grudgingly, looking a bit miffed.

“Yeah,” She nodded, taking another sip of her drink. “But I called about the concussion too,” she added.

“Hermione, I'm a grown man. You can't just call my mother on me all the time,” He said, sounding a bit like a toddler who'd just had his toy taken away.

“mmhmmm,” she hummed.

“Why?” he asked, crossing his arms.

“Because friends don't let friends do stupid things,” she replied.

“We’re friends?” Asked Seamus.

“Of course we’re friends!” she said, surprised. “Why wouldn't we be?” She asked him as she started to wrap up her trash.

“Well, I was kind of an arsehole in school,” he noted, stuffing some fries in his mouth.

“You were a total tosser,” she corrected him.

“Hold on, did you just say ‘tosser’?” He accused, holding in a laugh.

“I… well it's true!” She replied. “Anyways. We were all problematic in school but I've known you for over a decade and as far as I'm concerned sixteen year old Seamus and the Seamus sitting across from me are now very different,” She shrugged. “Besides, most of the things we fought about were hard. You know? It must have been hard to form opinions against your family,” she noted, remembering that most if their feuds involved the rise of Voldemort.

They soon resumed Hermione’s shopping and when they passed a woman’s specialty store Hermione stopped.

“I actually need to grab something in here,” she told him. Seamus’s expression was that of feigned shock.

“Don't you want to leave _some_ mystery till we're married?” He asked with a laugh as he followed her into the store.

“You're finally going to leave your wife and marry me?” She asked jokingly.

Seamus picked up a pair of sapphire blue silk panties.

“Hermione, this is definitely your colour!” He told her, to which she signed.

“Okay, I get it, you're funny. Put those down before you get us in trouble,” she brushed him off and he obeyed but picked up a different article of clothing, this time it was a full body piece, but made only of black satin strings. He held it up to her.

“You should wear this on your next date,” he headed. Hermione’s cheeks flushed.

“Put that away!” she hissed. “I would never wear that,” insisted Hermione as she picked out what she needed.

When they exited the store Seamus followed behind.

“I still think the string suit would have looked great,” he teased.

“Oh belt up,” she laughed.

 

* * *

 

 

They continued to wander around the shopping centre when suddenly Hermione turned to Seamus.

“Hey… So I hope you know that of we were just hanging out I would never ask this but.... Could you fall back a tiny bit?” her nervousness was clear as day

“Am I too close?” He asked but then a man approached.

“Hiya Hermione!” He greeted with a grin.

“Hello Elias,” she greeted him, returning the smile warmly. Seamus did his best bot to chuckle.

“How have you been? It's been ages,” he noted. Seamus looked him over carefully but didn't recognize him.

“I've been well and you? How is teaching going?” She asked.

“Oh it's… going,” he laughed awkwardly. “Teenagers are arseholes.” he laughed. “Oh sorry,” he looked at Seamus. “Is this your boyfriend?” he asked.

“Oh um. Seamus, this is Elias. We took a few college courses together a couple years ago,” she noted. Seamus extended a hand.

“Seamus Finnigan, great to meet you,” he replied. “Hermione and I are old friends. She needed some shopping done. I tagged along so she could help me pick out a birthday gift for my boyfriend,” he noted.

“Oh. You're a homosexual.” Said Elias out loud, a bit impulsively.

“Is that a problem?” Hermione asked, her nervousness she seemed to have melted away slightly. She crossed her arms across her chest.

“I said that out loud, didn't I,” he laughed. “Sorry, I was just really hoping he wasn't your boyfriend,” He explained.

“Why’s that?” Asked Hermione, she was more than a little oblivious to what Elias was implying.

“Because I told myself if I ever ran into you again, I would ask you to get coffee with me,” He pulled out his cell phone. “Can I get your number?” He asked.

“Oh yeah, of course,” she pulled a small spiral from her bag and used the pen in the binding to scribble her number down and gave it to him.

“Well, Hermione has to help me pick out a gift for my homosexual boyfriend,” Said Seamus, interrupting.

“I don't know if you've been here before, but there is a candle store on the second floor,” He told Seamus.

Seamus laughed and thanked him as he rushed Hermione away.

“What was that?” He teased.

“He's really great. He matched my academic drive,” she told him. “He teaches history at uni now,”

“You're practically drooling, damn Granger,” Seamus laughed. She punched his arm.

It had been nice to have a normal day amidst the chaos. She knew the evening would be hard but she decided to enjoy the rest of the day while she could.

“He matches my intellect, but not so much that it's a threat,” she spoke before forcing her lips together to keep from laughing.

“Sounds like just your type then,” He said casually and she smacked his arm.

“That was a joke!” She laughed.

 

* * *

 

When they finally got back to the flat, Hermione was worn out. They headed inside and Deamus shut the door behind them a little too hard. Hermione was caught off guard. She went and sat on the sofa, pulling her knees intu her chest.

_Be logical, be logical_

She thought over and over, trying to stop the tears from pooling eyes.

“What's wrong?” Asked Seamus.

“I’m okay,” Her four was quiet and cracking. Seamus made his way across the flat to sit next to her.

“What happened?” Asked Seamus.

“The door,” she admitted. “Can you hold my hand while I ride this out?” She asked him, closing her eyes.

Seamus took her hand and she leaned against his shoulder. They stayed silent until she calmed down. They didn't talk about it again

 

* * *

 

 

The following Monday, while sitting at his desk at the ministry, Harry pulled out his phone and dialled Hermione’s number.

“Hello?” Hermione huffed as she lifted the heavy box of books into her arms, her phone held to her ear by her shoulder.

“Hermione,” Harry said “What are you doing?” He asked momentarily distracted by her laboured voice.

“I had a day off so I decided to help Seamus and Dean move,” She explained as she placed the box on the shelf and started to separate them by genre. Harry sighed, Hermione’s way of dealing with Alma’s death was keeping herself as busy as possible and he wasn't sure how to get her out of that routine.

“I need you to come by the office at some point. We need to discuss something important but I work late today,” He informed her. Hermione set the phone down and out it on speaker.

“What's this last pile you guys?” She asked, referring to a third pile the boys had started.

“These are all the books we figured you'd like,” Dean started.

“You can take a look at them before you leave,” Seamus continued “and take however many you’d like. We’re donating the rest to the school my cousin works at,” he explained.

Tears welled up in Hermione’s eyes.

“Oh my gosh. You guys,” she said, sniffing. “You’re so good to me…Sorry, Harry, you needed me to come in?” She

“There's something I need to tell you,” he confirmed. Hermione focused on her hands as he spoke. “I'm not supposed to tell you yet, and I'm sorry to add this on top of everything. It's just that I would really rather you know now,” he started.

“Harry, I'm not a porcelain doll,” She said, straightening herself up in her chair.

“I just heard you have a breakdown on the phone because Seamus and Dean gave you their old books, but okay. If you want to act like you're perfect fine we can do that.” He replied and moved so he was seated across from her. His hands found hers and he held them tightly.

“Then say what you need to say, Harry,” Hermione crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow at him. She saw the look of sympathy on his face and something in her gut told her the news wouldn’t be good.


	3. The Last Will of Alma Fairborne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione is named in Alma's will, secrets unfold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry I left this on a cliff hanger for so long D: I totally meant to have chapter 3 up really quickly. Chapter 4, 5, & 6, are ready for editing as well so hopefully after 5 and 6 of my Flash short story collection are finished and updated, chapter four of this fic will be too. I have a lot of open projects and I only have a Harry Potter Beta and both of us have been super busy. 
> 
> Please feel welcome to point out grammar things I've missed. (: 
> 
> oh and I accidently cramped like all of the chapters comic relief into the front and I apologise lol.

“About three months before Alma died, she added you to her family roster at the ministry as her granddaughter and she left some things to you,” He informed her. “and.with the lack of evidence or even motive… We’re forced to consider the fact that someone may have targeted her to get to you,” He rubbed her hands with his thumbs. “Take a moment to take that in, okay?” his voice was soft. He didn't feel good about the situation. Hermione had been through enough already, and now she would have to be in charge of Alma’s affairs.

“She… She What?” Hermione asked, the disbelief paired clear across her face. “I mean, she joked about leaving me her books once but I didn't think she would actually… She left me everything?” She clarified. Hermione felt like she was in a daze, this still didn't feel quite real to her yet. She had managed to put off her feelings about it during the day, only leaving herself to react at night.

Hermione had first met Alma shortly after the war. The woman took special interest in her upon learning her chosen career path. They became fast friends and never looked back. They had taken many trips together, some were local and others were like their trip to France. They spent several months just exploring the historical culture.

“Yes. That's all I can say for now. Once her death certificate is confirmed, Gringotts will reach out to you.” He informed her.

“Thank you, Harry,” she said, smiling faintly

“Do I still need a security detail?” She inquired, looking at her hands.

“Yes, I'm afraid so,” he touched her hand gently with his own. “Also, we are going to give you another bodyguard,”

“Harry, the last thing I want is some stranger following me around when I'm grieving,” she replied. “Seamus was fine because I know him but…-” Harry cut her off.

“Please cooperate and remember that this is bigger than us. We don't know what this guy is capable of,” He tried to reason with her.

“Fine,” she allowed, crossing her arms. “Who else is going to babysit me, then?” she asked. Harry’s free hand moved to the coin on his desk and he flipped it over. Moments later a man in his late thirties opened the door. He wore wizard’s robes and his brown hair was tied up in a bun.

“Mr. Potter,” he greeted Harry seriously. Hermione heaved a sigh.

“Well, you might as well introduce me then,” Hermione insisted, annoyance colouring her tone.

“This is Hermione Granger. You will be her security detail along with Auror Finnigan until further notice. Hermione this is Ned McCaull,” He introduced them.

“Ma’am,” Said Ned simply.

“Man of… few words?” Hermione asked.

“Auror McCaull has been an auror for almost twenty years, he doesn't mess around,” Harry replied. The annoyed witch stood and started to head out of the office.

As she walked down the hall she felt more uneasy rather than safe having this strange man following ten feet behind her. Seamus was bearable, at least he spoke to her. Hermione stopped and allowed Anthony to catch up to her.

“Is there a problem, miss Granger?” He inquired, his eyes darting around the room.

“Everything is fine. Please call me Hermione,” She gave him a kind smile. “Tell me about yourself? Wife? Kids?” She asked.

-“No wife.”

-“Husband?”

-“I'm not a fag”

The conversation was rather quick. _Definitely not a talker._ Hermione thought, before she could speak and reprimand word choice, someone else spoke.

“Somebody call me?” Asked Seamus, a goofy grin on his face. He had appeared out of his office, pushing his hair back.

“I don't really appreciate slurs in any form,” Hermione informed Ned. “I am not afraid to file a complaint with the head auror.” She crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow at the man in front if her. This wouldn't be the first time Hermione challenged a man twice her size.

“Oh it's fine, Hermione,” Said Seamus with a grin. “After all, you were the one who told me studies show that extremely homophobic men are likely to be gay in denial,” He stated smugly. Hermione saw the knuckles on Anthony’s left hand tighten but he didn't say anything.

“I'm not gay.” He repeated and Seamus threw an arm around Hermione’s shoulders.

“Good. Because the token gay friend slot in this whacky adventure is taken,” Seamus responded.

Ned stayed silent as they walked.

“This isn't a wacky adventure, someone died,” Hermione complained.

“Oh I know,” he replied. “But I just _love_ pushing Ned’s buttons.” a grin spread across his face as he spoke. “Plus, I know this isn't a great time for you so I'm doing to my best to keep you entertained at least,” He grinned.

When they returned to the flat Ned perched himself directly next to the door.

“Can I get you a cup of tea?” She offered.

“I'm fine.” Said Ned, unmoving.

The following day as Hermione was enjoying her morning coffee an owl landed on the kitchen table in front of her. The small cat in her lap unaffected. She recognised it immediately as a Gringotts owl. Hermione took a deep breath before taking the note from the creature’s foot.

_Dear Miss H. Granger,_

_You have been summoned to Gringotts regarding the last will and Testament of one Mrs. Alma Fairborne. Please report to our Diagon Alley location at your earliest convenience. We send our condolences._

_Sincerely,_

_Gringotts Staff._

Hermione closed the letter and put it into her bag which hung off the back of the chair. She watched as the owl flapped its wings in preparation to take flight again.

“Oh, wait!” She stopped the small grey owl. It made a point to stop and look up at her with it’s big black orbs. She rose from the table and pulled a small glass bowl from the cupboard and filled it at the sink before placing it in on the table for the owl to drink. She smiled faintly as it lapped at the water before flying off.

Ron stumbled into the kitchen not long after, his eyes barely open as he made his way to the fridge.

“Morning, Ronald,” She greeted him.

“Mornin,” he mumbled back before making himself a bowl of cereal.

“Don't feel like cooking today?” She asked curiously. He sat down and looked at her tiredly.

“If you're hungry I'll make you something,” he offered, not fully understanding what Hermione was implying.

“I already ate. You just seem tired,” she noted. Ron just nodded in return. “Gringotts summoned me,” She said when Harry entered the kitchen, pouring himself some coffee.

“Ah. Wonder what she left you,” Harry said casually. “They were making a big deal about it at work,” he noted.

“Well, I mean. It's probably the flat and some gold. It's not like she has some whole secret life you never knew about” Ron shrugged, putting his head down in the table.

“Okay, I'm tiffed,” Harry announced, setting his coffee down.

“Why?” Hermione asked.

“I sleep on those silk pillow cases for six years and I always wake up looking like the whomping willow beat the shite out of me and Ron used em’ once and his hair is bloody perfect,” He complained.

“Okay.” Hermione started and Harry yawned loudly. “I have several questions,” she stated.  “First being, who's going with me to Gringotts?” She inquired. Ron raised a hand weakly but didn't say anything. “Oh good does that mean Auror McCaull can stay… Not near me?” She asked, brining her dishes to the sink.

“I guess.” Harry replied. “Why? Something wrong with him?” Hermione had to hold herself back from making a complaint. She often had to think about how much power Harry had in the ministry. The last thing she wanted was Harry making an impulsive decision.

“Oh good. I just don't like having a stage man breathing down my neck. He doesn't even speak to me so it sort of feels creepy,” she replied. “Ronald, how about you go lay down for an hour and then we'll go,” she suggested. All she got in response was a loud snore.

“Next question… Why do both of you look like you haven't slept a wink?” She asked.

“We were up late,” he replied.

“Okay?” She replied.

“What? Okay Ron slept in my bed last night. Why are you being so weird about it? You slept between us in the middle of nowhere more than once,” he accused, getting visibly defensive about the situation.

“It’s a little weird that you guys are suddenly so close, but I was more concerned about what was keeping you awake on a weekday,’ she crossed her arms. “No need to get defensive,”

“Why are you so obsessed with what Ron and I do all of a sudden?” He demanded, growing visibly defensive.

“I'm not. I just don't know why you're suddenly hiding things from me,” she interjected.

“You wouldn’t understand.” He grabbed his briefcase and blazer on his way out, storming past her in the process. Hermione let him go, she didn't have the energy for a fight. Instead, she made her way over to Ron, shaking his shoulder.

“Ron. Ron, you should go lay down in bed,” she told him. He rose in a sleepy stupor and disappeared down the hall.

Once he was gone she sat herself on the sofa, Crookshanks sat on the back of the sofa, his tail swishing slightly off the edge.

“Are you still mad at me because Grayson is here?” She asked him, reaching out to scratch his chin, but before she made contact he leaped from the back of the sofa.

“Well, he's here to stay so you better behave,” She called after him.

“Hello, mistress,” Said Seamus, hopping onto the other half of the sofa.

Seamus was always comfortable letting himself into their apartment, and Hermione was starting to get used to it. Not that she would ever admit it, not to Seamus anyways.

“Now that I'm your mistress... Does this mean you'll buy me expensive things to keep quiet? You know, so I don't run off and tell your wife about us.” She asked him. “Because you know, there’s a nice encyclopedia set at Waterstone I've had my eye on…” she trailed off.

“Well, now I know what to get you for Christmas,” He shrugged and put his arms on the back of the sofa.

“What's on the agenda for today?” He asked casually as he closed his eyes.

“Well, Ronald is having a kip and then we have to go to Gringotts,” She told him. “Which is going to be a mess,” she sighed and pulled a book from the sofa beside her.

“hmm, why’s that?” he asked, not opening his eyes. Hermione laid backwards backwards casually, letting her head fall into his lap.

“Because, Alma apparently left me some things,” Hermione explained. She really didn't want to talk about it. The brunette was ready for her day of distraction to begin.

“Oi, be careful I've got something in that area that I need,” complained Seamus.

“I’m aware of male anatomy, ‘Shay,” she replied plainly, focused on her book.

“Are you okay?” He asked her after a moment.  

“No,” she admitted, flipping to the next page in her book.

“Well. Ron and I will be with you,” he offered lamely. “Are you hungry?” He asked her.

“Actually…” She trialled off. “I am a little,”

“What am I making?” he asked. Hermione sat up to allow him to stand before she followed him into the kitchen.

“Anything, I just sort of feel like stuffing my face and I’ve never actually seen you cook,” She pulled her hair back with a tie off her wrist as she spoke.

“Okay, let's go to the store,” he suggested and they headed out.

Seamus drove them to a small grocery store about an hour's drive out that Hermione had never been to before. He grabbed a basket at the door and headed straight for the deli.

“All right, Mac?” He greeted the man behind the refrigerated display case.

A large man turned around and met Seamus with a smile.

“Hey Seamus. The usual?” He inquired, this definitely wasn’t Seamus’s first time here.

“Yep,” he replied. “Also, could I get a couple fish? Any whole ones are fine. Surprise me.” He requested. Mac nodded and weighed out some sausage and had another employee set a meat on the slicer.

“So, who's this?” He asked, crossing his arms and leaning them on display case. His arms were rather toned for someone who stood behind a counter all day.

“Easy,” Seamus laughed. “This is Hermione, Hermione this is my old friend Mac Adams. Dean and I have been coming here since we moved to the area,” he looked at Mac then. “I went to school with Hermione,” he explained.

“I'm going to get a few other things,” he told them. “Stay here,” he instructed Hermione and headed down an isle off to the side.

“So, a private school girl, huh?” Started Mac.

“Yes. I graduated top of my class,” she replied proudly. She was able to interpret that Seamus must have told a white lie about his past.

“Still have your old uniform?” He asked her. He looked her up and down as he spoke. Hermione noticed and wasn't exactly comfortable.

“No, why do you want it?” She asked, Seamus returned with a half full basket before Mac could respond. “I could get you one and have Seamus bring it to you. I'm very good friends with the head teacher,” She said casually, dodging his comment.

“What did I miss?” He asked as he took the sausage off the counter and placed it in the basket as well.

“Mac was just saying he wanted my old uniform. I think the colours would really bring out his eyes, don't you?” She asked, smiling innocently. Seamus laughed.

“Sorry about him,” He gave Mac a look. “We can head out now,” he told her and they headed to the checkout.

* * *

When they arrived back at the house Ron was awake and seated at the kitchen table.

“Hey Ron,” Hermione greeted him casually. Seamus greeted Ron before setting his groceries on the breakfast bar, humming a tune Hermione didn't recognize.

By the time midday rolled around, Seamus had made a large meal. Pasta, sausage, and homemade garlic bread. Hermione watched him cook curiously, she wasn't sure if she’d ever seen him so focused before.

“There we are,” he grinned. “Ron you can make a plate if you'd like, there will probably be left overs for a few days.” He smiled, crossing his arms as admiring his work.

Hermione made herself a plate as Seamus looked on, no so easily concealing the excitement building within.

“This is really good,” she told him, adding a second helping of garlic bread to her plate.

“Seamus is a great cook. Almost as good as mum. He brings stuff in for the aurors all the time,” Said Ron around a mouthful of sausage.

“You look surprised. What were you expecting, a frozen pizza?” he asked,  but he was too proud of himself to be offended.

“No. I really wasn't sure what to expect,” she admitted. “You're an excellent cook.” she praised him.

“After you guys eat we’ll head over to the bank,” he suggested.

“Why aren't you eating?” She asked.

“Let’s talk later,” he suggested, glancing at Ron.

“Seamus Finnigan you will sit down with your friends who love you and eat,” she insisted. He reluctantly made himself a small plate and picked at it silently. Hermione frowned a little and gave his arm a reassuring squeeze.

When he finished, they started their walk down to Diagon alley.

* * *

"You boys are making me anxious,” Hermione said, not liking how stiff they were. “Let's try to act normal until we get there,” - she linked arms with the boys as they exited The Leaky Cauldron into the alleyway.

“Alright.” Ron replied, however Seamus  still seemed distracted which did not go unnoticed by Hermione. She leaned her head on his arm as they walked the remaining way to the bank. Briefly a couple of snowflakes fell around them.

“What's the date?” Hermione asked as they approached the towering building that was Gringotts, the wizard bank.

“It’s December fifth,” Ron informed her. “little over a fortnight till Christmas,” he smiled. Hermione dropped their arms and approached the front desk. The bank was surprisingly deserted apart from the goblins.

“Hello, I'm Hermione Granger. I was summoned,” she informed the goblin at the desk. He leaned forward across the desk to get a closer look at her.

“Your key, miss?” he asked. Hermione presented him with her vault key. The goblin reached out and took it from her with his bony hands.

“Very well. The boys will have to wait outside the room,” He told Her, calling another goblin to help them.

An abnormally tall goblin approached them, he was still quite small but about a head taller than most of the goblins who scurried around him.

“This way,” He instructed.

“May I ask your name?” She asked. He looked at her with raised brows.

“Why?” Asked the goblin.

“So I know how to address you,” she explained and part of her felt sad that it didn't seem like they were asked that often.

“It's Cloigs,” he informed her. “Follow me. He ordered her shortly. The three followed the goblins back towards another locked entrance.

They stopped at the door and the goblins used a small key to bypass the gate blocking the door.

“You stay,” he pointed to the boys. Ron opened his mouth to object but Hermione cut him off.

“Alright. I think I need to do this alone anyways.” She informed them before allowing the goblin to lead her inside. The walls of the room were lined with what Hermione assumed were the wizarding equivalent of safety deposit boxes.

“Sit.” he instructed, jabbing a twig-like finger towards the table and chairs in the middle of the room. Hermione took a seat.

“I will now read the last Will and testament of Alma Marie Fairborne,” he announced, picking up a sheet of paper.

“The last Will and Testament of Alma Marie Fairborne of London England.” He began. Hermione took. deep breath in an effort to collect herself. “I hereby leave all of my earthly possessions to my dear granddaughter Hermione Granger of London England. I leave my life's worth knowing that she will know what to do with it and I know that she will always fight for justice with a pure heart and the courage of a dragon.” he finished, setting the paper down.

“Have you ever received inheritance before?” Asked the goblin.

“Not really. I was named in the Will of Albus Dumbledore but I was not named next of kin,” she informed him.

“Well,” replied the goblin, presenting her with a piece of paper, setting the pen beside it. “I need you to sign here to acknowledge that you've seen the will.” He explained. “Then initial in the next line to approve the transfer for Alma’s vault content to yours.” He pointed to the initial slot. Hermione read the contract thoroughly.

“The bank retains a small portion, but I assure you it will barely put a dent in the Fairborne fortune,” he explained.

“Excuse me?” She said, surprised.

“That's the policy,” he informed her.

“No, no. I don't care about the gold. You called it the Fairborne fortune?” she asked.

“Yes.” He nodded. “Their vault is one of the oldest in Gringotts.” He informed her. “Didn't you know that?”

“Oh,” Said Hermione, unsure of how to process this. “I didn't. She was very humble.”

“Now, this is miss Fairborne’s safety deposit box. He said, another goblin in the room bringing him a small metal box. He placed it on the table and handed her Alma’s key. Hermione hesitantly opened the box, inside there seemed to be a random assortment of items. A small satin box, an antique pocket watch wrapped in a hankerchief, old photos and lastly a large card with a dragon silhouette. Hermione then saw an envelope that stopped her in her tracks. It was new. She knew this because it was sealed by means of the wax seal they had picked up on their last trip to pairs together.

Hermione felt happy for a moment as she remembered finding it in the small shop just outside the city. The memory caused a few tears to roll down her cheeks. She brushed them away quickly.

She picked up the letter but hesitated for a moment, running her fingers above the seal before she had the courage to break it and slide the letter from the envelope.

_Dearest Hermione,_

_I very much hope this letter will never find its way into your hands, but due to recent events I’m forced to consider the fact that I may be nearing the end of my life. I received a calling card in the mail, which you should receive along with this letter._

_The sins of my past have returned to haunt me, and it's time for you to know everything I never wanted to drag up again._

_In my youth I made the mistake many young ones do. I had found myself immersed in the world of blood pursuits. It was bound to happen with my upbringing, especially when I had seen no other way of life and such thinking was more common back then, but I will not make excuses._

_In my early adulthood I joined a group who referred to themselves as the Brotherhood of Purity. We were vigilantes of sorts with grossly misguided views. More like terrorists looking back now. I have done things that I cannot wash away. We silenced those who wanted to fight for the rights and welcoming of muggle borns and half bloods._

_When I was older I realised this wasn't the life I wanted. I still had my views but I wanted to settle down and so I did. I had a beautiful baby girl, Ophelia. She was a rebellious child and not long after her nineteenth birthday she fell pregnant by a Muggleborn. Naturally I was outraged. Her father wanted to disown her but I never allowed it, I had been estranged from my own family, I wouldn't allow that to happen to her. My husband and I separated, which was nearly unheard of at the time._

_When my grandson was born, he was the most beautiful baby I had ever seen. However he came at a price. My daughter did not survive his birth, for even with magic back then things were difficult._

_I named him Nathaniel, as my daughter had wanted and raised him to the best of my abilities. It should have taken far less than this for me to change my outlook, but that was when I changed my life. When he died, far too early, I studied wizarding law and started my job at the ministry. It was a very small job in the muggle studies department of the ministry, which eventually lead to my position on the Wizengamot, and of course, where I met you my dear. You are the spitting image of my Ophelia. I knew it was a sign._

_I have provided you with everything you need to tie up these loose ends. Please always wear the necklace. Give the pocket watch to Harry and the handkerchief to Ronald. They will help you, but do not tell others of their importance. I fear this group may be making plans to rise again, so please make sure the ministry can stop them. Most of your questions can be answered at the manor. I wish I could tell you everything in this letter, but I cannot risk them getting their hands on it._

_Even if you cannot forgive me for my past, I implore you to stop them from rising again. We have all worked too hard to allow this plague to win._

 

_Love always,_

_Alma_

Hermione stared at the letter, her hands shaking. In a haste she folded up the letter and put it away, not wanting any of the goblins to see. She opened the satin box and inside was a necklace with rabbit figurine on it. Its eyes were a dark stone Hermione could not recognize. .

If she wasn't in shock and trying to process things, she might have smiled. Alma had a deep love for rabbits and they covered her apartment. Hermione then quickly pocketed the other two notable items. She had to keep it together in front of the goblin who was staring at her from across the table. The first few documents were birth certificates for the Fairborne family, as well as a few death records. The last one was a deed to Faireborne estate.

“I would like to move the rest of this box’s contents into a safety deposit box of my own,” she informed him, she didn't want to risk anyone else gaining access to these documents.

“I will send for the required paperwork,” He informed her speaking briefly to one of the goblins working in the large room. “Will you be visiting the vault today?” He inquired.

“Yes.” She nodded. “May I bring my friends?” she asked, not wanting to let on that Ron and Seamus were security detail.

“Yes,” he replied, a little taken aback by how attentive she was. Most wizards did not focus on the goblins too much. The goblin returned with paperwork and Hermione thanked him as well. Once all the paperwork had been transferred to Hermione’s safety deposit box she stood.

“Will you be taking me to the vault or is that another department?” She asked him.

“You are a very talkative which,” he replied. Unsure how he felt about it. He lead her out of the room.

“I've been told,” Said Hermione with a weak laugh.

They started to make their plunge into the depths. Hermione hadn't spoken a word the entire time, causing her friends to become concerned. As they were seated in the trolley, Seamus placed his open hand beside Hermione. She grasped it tightly with her own. He smiled a little and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. When they got off the trolley she didn't drop Seamus’s hand. Cloigs unlocked the several different locks on the vault.

“Tell me when you wish to return to the surface,” Said Cloigs before going back to the trolley. The three entered the vault and Hermione struggled to take in everything at once. It was as large as Bellatrix’s vault. The majority of the vault was filled with piles of gold and silver coins. Hermione paid little notice to this though, distracted by an old suit of armour towards the back. It brandished a large shield. The shield was warn but the designs of a rabbit and a cross were able to be made out. To the left was a tapestry with the same crest. She finished looking around for anything that would help her investigation but found nothing.

“Okay,” she said, squeezing Seamus’s hand once more. “Ron, let's go home. We have to feed Scabbers.” She reminded him. Seamus looked confused but composed himself when Ron’s fist clenched.

“Lets go.” He said simply. Scabbers had become a code for urgency with the trio.

“Where are we going?” Ron asked as they made it out of the building.

“To see Harry at the ministry.” She explained. “But then I would like to go home.” She said softly. She wanted this to be over. She needed time to process everything that had happened. She let go of Seamus’s hand and they made their way towards to nearest ministry entrance.

Upon arriving Hermione moved directly to the auror department and knocked on the door to Harry’s office.

“Come in,” he called and the three entered his office.

“How did it go?” He asked, Hermione found herself struggling to remain composed.

“Seamus, could you give us a moment?” She asked. He didn't need to be asked twice.

He disappeared and headed down to his own office and sat down, pulling out his cell phone and dialing Dean’s number.

Back at the shop beneath their flat, Dean answered the phone and pinched it between his shoulder and ear as he put a heavy jar of dried Beatles on the shelf. Seamus and Dean had chosen their flat because it was above a storefront which they also purchased for Dean’s apothecary shop.

“Hey babe,” he said casually, loading up a second jar beside the first, this one filled to nearly the brim with centipedes.

“Hey Dean,” he smiled weakly. “We need to talk,” he told him seriously. Dean stopped and picked up the phone.

“What's wrong?” Dean paused, a frown appearing on his face.

* * *

Back in Harry’s office, Hermione pulled the pocket watch wrapped handkerchief from her bag and placed the handkerchief in Ron’s hand and the pocket watch in Harry’s

“I don't know what these are,” Hermione admitted. “But Alma said it was important for you to have them,” she said before handing over the letter to Harry. He opened it and started to read it over. He closed the envelope and set it on his desk, his eyes landing on Hermione.

“Are you ok?” He asked her.

Hermione ignored his question, for she truly had no answer.

“There is a lot to take in,” was all she managed.

“What did it say?” asked Ron, frowning, but he took the handkerchief and folded it up, placing it in the inner pocket of his blazer. “I'll keep this with me,” he promised.

“She knew she was going to die,” she said, her voice only quivering the smallest bit. She was reaching her breaking point. This was all too much for her. The hole that had carved itself into her chest when Alma had died was screaming and Hermione hadn't felt such an influx of emotion like this in almost a decade. She was scared, she was in pain, she was angry. She was also shocked and confused. Too many thoughts bombarded her psyche. She felt as if the world would fall apart at any moment, taking her down with it.

“Ron, you and Seamus should take Hermione home.” He said carefully. “While we will investigate the manor as soon as possible, right now Hermione needs to go home,”

“Hermione can decide for herself what she wants to do,” he said plainly. “This is about her too so we can't just make every decision for her,” he argued. Hermione reached out and touched his arm.

“It's fine,” she said softly. “I think I want to go home,” she decided. Ron nodded once. Harry began taking notes but his free hand outstretched towards Ron. The letter between his fingers. Ron took the letter and left with Hermione.

When they went back to the apartment Hermione went straight to her room, leaving Seamus and Ron in the living room.

“Why were you so distracted today?” Ron asked.

“I'm dealing with some family stuff,” he admitted. “Sorry about that. I'm still trying to get used to this kind of job,” he explained.

“Maybe this isn’t the right place for you,” Ron shrugged.

“I've considered that… but I do want to be an auror,” Said Seamus.

“Maybe you should try another sector. Are you good with kids? There's a whole branch that your training would qualify you for. Harry and I could pull some strings,” He offered.

“What would I be doing?” He asked.

“You would deal with domestic cases, you would gather information and make arrests,” he explained. “It's not as demanding. You also wouldn't have to hide as much from Dean because you would have a basic work day,” he told him. “Think about it, and after this is over you can decide,” he offered. Seamus nodded in response.

“Thanks Ron,” he smiled a bit.

When Harry came home he updated Seamus on the case before allowing him to leave for the day.

Ron made his way down the hallway and knocked on the door to Hermione’s Room.

“Can I come in, Hermione?” He asked her. The witch didn't get up from her position on her bed. Curled up in a ball around her pillow and just stayed silent for a moment.

“Yes,” she finally replied, sitting up and wrapping her arms around her knees. Ron stepped inside, shutting the door behind him.

“Can I sit with you?” He asked. She nodded once and moved closer to the front end of her bed. Ron took a seat on the opposite end to give her space.

“I read the letter,” He had been caught up on the situation. “What are you thinking about all of it?” He asked her. He knew just about better than anyone that this news would be hard for her. She glanced at her arm where they both knew a scar laid, hiding behind the long sleeve of her pyjama top.

“I don't know,” she admitted.

“I want you to know that we’re going to get them. They can't hide from us and they won't win,” He told her.

“I know,” she replied. “And I'm going to help,” She moved to sit beside him and squeezed his hand. “Thank you for checking on me.” They didn't look at eachother. Ron just nodded and kept his eyes down. Hermione could tell they were both thinking about the same thing. The event at Malfoy Manor neither of them spoke about.

“Is Harry waiting for you?” She spoke again after a long pause.

“No,” replied Ron.

“I don't want to be alone,” Hermione admitted. Ron placed his other hand over hers. She wouldn’t say it aloud but was afraid to go to sleep, she could feel the nightmares waiting for her.

“I'll stay with you until you fall asleep,” He assured her. His words made Hermione feel just a tiny bit more secure.


	4. Shatter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seamus and Dean have another long overdue heart to heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a few quick things I wanna say.
> 
> 1\. I have re-written and edited this chapter car a dozen times but something still feels off to me. I'm sorry if this isn t up to par.
> 
> 2\. This is sort of filler, it's moderately important to the main storyline but I made it into it's own chapter so people can skip it of they'd like. 
> 
> 3\. Chapter 5 is long as hell but it's in editing and should be uploaded soon! 5 will jump back into the main plotline.

Seamus made it back to his flat around half six. Dean was still setting stuff up in the shop. When Seamus pulled into his parking space he took a deep breath. He leaned forward to rest his head on the steering wheel. He didn't want to deal with this but he knew he had to. There was so much going on at once and he just wasn't keeping up.

Dean, who had seen Seamus drive by noticed when he wasn't coming in. He would have heard the door. The front door to their apartment was abnormally heavy and had a tendency to slam. So he set down the jar in his hands and headed out and around the back to where his boyfriend was parked. He frowned a little when he saw him. Dean approached the car and knocked on the window, leaning against the door. Seamus looked up and rolled down the window.

“I'm coming in, in a bit.” He smiled.

“Sir, do you have a parking Permit?” Asked Dean, putting on a serious voice, but a smirk spread across his face. 

“I’m afraid I don't,” Laughed Seamus.

“You're going to have to step out of the vehicle and pay a fine,” He told him. Seamus took off his seatbelt and got out of the car. Dean ducked his head down and gave him a kiss on the lips.

“Woah, easy there officer, I have a boyfriend,” Seamus joked and took Dean’s hand.

“Let's go inside,” He squeezed his hand comfortingly. “I'll lock up and we’ll order out,” He dropped his hand. “I'll be upstairs in a second.” He disappeared back around the front of the shop. After a few minutes he returned.

“It's really cold, isn't it?” Dean commented as they headed up the stairs and into their flat. “You could have gone up without me,” He told him.

Seamus wasn't so sure he could have. He was tired. 

“Yeah. I can't wait for the spring,” Seamus agreed, pulling off his scarf to hang it on the rack by the door. “I'll put the kettle on,” He ditched his boots and headed across the flat and into the kitchen area. He took the kettle from the stove and placed it in the sink to fill it. 

“I’m gonna toss some sweats into the dryer. Do you want yours warmed up too?” He asked.

“Sure,” Seamus placed the now full kettle on the stove and turning up the heat.

Dead headed up the compact spiral staircase to their bedroom and grabbed two sets of warm clothes before heading back down. The building they lived in wasn't always an apartment, but they renovated it. Making some of the rooms a bit awkward. He folded away the white bifold doors covering the laundry area and tossed the clothes into the dryer on high. 

When he returned, Seamus was already bent over a pot; staring unblinking into a pot that held nothing not water.

“‘Shay,” Said Dean. “I said we could order out,” He came over to join him by the stove, His concern just continuing to rise.

“I know I just felt like cooking,” He admitted.

“And… babe?” He was admittedly very concerned about his boyfriend.

“Ya?” Seamus continued to stir the pot on the stove by hand.

“You're stirring a pot of water,” He told him and Seamus quickly grabbed the broth cubes he had set aside and dropped them into the pot.

“I knew that.” He lied.

Dean reached around him and took the spoon.

“Go sit down. We can talk while we wait for the tea to be ready,” 

“I'm fine,” He took the spoon back and continued to stir until the broth cubes dissolved then he started to add ingredients. 

“Seamus, please.” Started Dean, rubbing Seamus’s arm. “Sit down, when the tea is ready we’ll talk. You did say you wanted to talk,” he offered. He couldn't stand watching Seamus like this.

“Can you get out of my face please?” Seamus asked. “Let me cook in piece,” 

“I'm going to call Harry,” Dean said and pulled out his phone and finding Harry in his contacts. 

The phone rang out for a while before he picked up.

“Hey Dean,” He said casually.

“Hey. Do you have some Aurors on reserve or something who can cover Seamus’s shifts for a few days?” He inquired.

“Um, yeah,” Harry blinked. “I can do that. Is he alright?” Harry sounded concerned, he wondered what was going on, but decided against prying.

“We’re having a family emergency,” He told him, not exactly lying. 

“I'll take care of everything on this end, take care of Seamus for us. Take as much time as you need, I have everything settled here.” Said Harry. It wasn't uncommon for aurors around their age to need time off for personal reasons and Harry was always willing to grant it.

“I will,” He replied, hanging up and putting his phone away so he could return his attention back to his unstable Seamus.

“Who was that?” Asked Seamus, trying to act normal, the world around him began to feel more and more unreal and his resolve was faltering. He locked it up as best as he could. He wanted Dean to stop worrying, not that he would say it outloud. Seamus was more of a do-er than a talker. Dean was a pleasant mix of the those traits. He didn't always need words, and Seamus responded to that. 

“That was Harry,” He replied. “I got you a few days off,” He put his phone in his pocket and a hand on Seamus’s shoulder. For as long as he could remember they

“Dean, you can't just call into my work,” Seamus objected,  “You're going to make me look like a eejit,” He added something else to the pot.

“Then what am I supposed to do, Seamus? I'm supposed to just sit here and watch you loose it and not say a word about it?” He demanded

“Yes, that's exactly what I want to do because I will say it again. Nothing is wrong.” he insisted. “You're being crazy,” He replied.

“You are cooking a coaster!” He nearly roared in frustration. Seamus had accidently tossed a coaster into the pot along with the other incidents.

“What do you want me to say, Dean?” He demanded. “What is it? Do you want me to tell you that I feel like I'm losing my mind?” He turned to him. “Do you want me to tell you how weak I am and how I'm struggling to take care of Hermione?” He asked. “Or, Maybe about how Ron practically told me he wants to fire me today because I'm shite at my job?” His face turning red. “All while I'm trying to figure out how I'm going to protect you now?” He demanded, slamming his hands down, hitting the pot on the stove and knocking it onto the floor. Scalding water hitting his leg. He cried out and kicked the pot. 

“Bloody hell,” he groaned. “None of it got ya did it?” He asked, his accent coming through. 

“I’ll be honest. Right now it looks more like I'm the one who needs to protect you, Seamus,” He told him. “Take off your pants,” He ordered.

“It's fine, Dean,” He replied.

“I can tell you right now that you've got a second degree burn. Take. Them. Off.” He said seriously. Seamus stepped out of his pants and revealed the redness that was on the side of his calf up to about his knee. Dean quickly turned off the stove and lead him to the sofa. “Sit,” he ordered. 

Seamus compiled and sat himself on the loveseat, simultaneously Dean headed back onto the kitchen to grab a first aid kit. He returned and sat down across from him on the coffee table. 

“Put your leg up,” He instructed as he patted his thigh. Seamus reluctantly put his foot up on Dean’s thigh. Dean opened the first aid kit and pulled out a salve. “This will sting,” He told him before applying a salve carefully to the affected area. 

Seamus winced at the pain for only a moment, then composed himself. Dean then carefully wrapped up Seamus’s leg from ankle to knee with thick gauze.“It should be all healed up by tomorrow or the day after,” Dean stated.

Behind them, the buzzer in the dryer went off. He got up and grabbed Seamus’s pants and tossed them to him on the sofa. Seamus slipped them on.

“I'm just trying so hard to be a good man for you,” He let slip, He was tired. He didn’t have the strength to manage his filter, not that he has much of one in the first place.

“Shay,” Dean was incredibly surprised by that comment. He had never thought of anything like that. However it wasn't until they had gotten more serious that they started being more conscious about their relationship. Dean couldn’t help but remember when things were so much easier. He remembered the quidditch world cup (before all the madness of course) laying on the cot in the tent, Seamus casually tracing circles into Dean’s back as he laid on his side facing the wall. It was innocent, it didn't mean anything at the time but it was a building block their comfort around each other

He remembered the first time he and Seamus had broken that awkward touch barrier: They were thirteen and Dean held his good hand while madam Pomfrey painfully fixed his broken one, one hand on his shoulder the other holding his good hand. He remembered how they left and had forgotten to pull their hands apart until they reached their next class. At the time, it was never anything more than them being comfortable around each other, and it was easy. 

It was all so easy before it became something.

He thought about the summer after their sixth year when he had came to stay at the small house in The Pale that Seamus inhabited with his parents. They had shared a bed for lack of space. He could still put himself in that moment when he realised that this was different from the the last time they shared a bed.

* * *

 

_ “When do we leave?” Dean had asked, his bare back was to Seamus once again. Seamus slept pretty bundled up, while Dean was a minimalist; just sweatpants was plenty for him. _

_ “Me mam wants us to get moving in the next week or so,” He had said casually.  _

_ As he spoke, he had thought about reaching out and feeling Dean’s skin there under his touch. However, something felt different about it now. The thought of closing the gap between them made his heart swell. He just wanted to be closer to him. When they were younger, it wasn’t anything like that. It was more about comfort being around each other, but now, he wanted to hold Dean. _

_ He wanted them to lay together without a gap between them. He now had a desire to embrace Dean, and a part of him knew Dean wanted the same. He looked between them at the noticeable gap in the bed between the two boys. It made Seamus feel almost sad.  _ When had that boundary been set? Who had set it?  _ the questions buzzed through Seamus’s brain like angry wasps as he struggled to remember when things had changed.  _

_ When did they go from falling asleep on each other in the Gryffindor common room, and unconsciously holding hands on their way back up to Gryffindor Tower when classes had finished for the day, to this? When did all of that become a large strip of unclaimed bed, which already barely fit both the boys? The men. They were adults now. Seamus tried to process this but couldn't come up with any concrete answers. It wasn't like they would full on cuddle before, but they had never cared if they touched or not. If one of them woke up with an arm haphazardly over the other as they snored in the common room, they didn't care. _

_ Seamus considered that maybe it was when he became old enough to really understand his father’s off handed comments about “poofs” and “faggots”. Maybe he had started the divide when he started taking them to heart. Seamus wasn't sure but what he did know was that he wasn't happy about it.  _

_ Dean thought maybe it was when they noticed that when you were kids, not many people at  looked at two boys sitting shoulder to shoulder on the train, or when you stayed up studying and passed out leaning on each other, because there was nothing to notice. Then when you got older people started looking at you sideways, teachers told you to separate, adults told you to behave. Fellow students asked questions. Are you gay? Is he your boyfriend? Or made comments, Get a room you guys! They are such a cute couple! At Hogwarts at least it usually wasn't a negative majority. Dean could only remember a handful of times people had anything negative to say, and even then, nothing came of it.  _

_ It added a certain pressure to either be or not be something. Things were different. It took away a lot of their choices and it interrupted the little comfort zone they had spent years building. They didn't want any pressure to decide what they meant to eachother.  _

_ However simultaneously they both realised that, in this moment, all of their feelings were useless. They didn't matter. They were leaving for war in a matter of days, and Seamus’s father was downstairs, waiting for them to come to breakfast, Dean totally oblivious to the fact that he was the source of his friend’s behaviour that day.  _

_ Seamus reached out but then had hesitated, pulling his hand back to himself.  _

_ He had realised things were different too.  _

_ However while Dean was afraid of getting separated from Seamus, Seamus was worried about something else. he worried about the idea of his father barging in and seeing him being too intimate with his male friend. He didn't want that on top of the war, He didn't want to worry about not having a home to come back to. _

_ Dean turned over to face him, a faint smile painted on his face. It was more to reassure his friend than anything but Seamus could see it was forced and that fact only made him feel worse. Dean reached out and touched Seamus’s arm, carefully dragging his fingers up. He had done this a thousand times before, however this time Dean had only made his way partially up his arm before his wrist was caught in Seamus’s grasp. _

_ “That's weird, mate. Don’t touch me.”  Seamus retorted. Dean frowned, half at the rejection and half at the fact that he could tell, by looking at his face, that he wasn't sincere in the slightest. His eyes were guarded, and wouldn't meet Dean’s. _

_ It took a lot of will for Seamus to not only reject the comforting touch of his friend, but also possibly hurt him with his words.  _

_ “I’m sorry,” Dean spoke after a moment. “I know things are different now, but… I’ll be honest. I don't know if I want them to be. I don't want anyone but us to dictate how we feel. That's our choice and ours alone. I don't want us to act differently for anyone besides ourselves.” he pulled his wrist from Seamus's grasp.  _

_ “I don't know what you're on about mate,”  replied Seamus, turning over in the bed to face away from him. _

_ “I think you do.” replied Dean, his voice soft. His tone was not accusing, nor was it aggressive. It was merely stating a not-so-simple fact. With this, he moved a little closer to him - still not disturbing the gap- to speak quietly. “We aren't kids anymore. Everything is different,” Dean started at Seamus’s back. The only thing looking back at him was the ‘StarWars’ logo on the back of Seamus’s shirt. He wasn't sure if it was the need for a distraction from what was going on around them or the realisation, but all Dean could think about was whether or not he wanted things to be different. Dean only had a small number of options.  _

_ First being that he could pretend that nothing had changed. He and Seamus could go out to war, and if they lived they could start lives with other people, and just do their best to forget everything they had spent an entire Era building. They could abandon everything from the awkward meeting on the trolley when they weren't even teenagers yet, to the world cup, to right now. This moment as everything they built together was somehow pouring itself into the strip of empty bed between them. They could leave everything right there, and spend the next several years trying to forget, if they would be given that chance because they knew that if anything did or didn’t happen between them, it would have been right then. _

_Secondly, he could leave on his own and never look back. Holding onto the memory of_ before, of when _everything was innocent and they weren't emotionally mature enough to put words onto_ _the bond they had been building all these years, before people tried to force them to pick a side. They could leave it at that in that empty space of the bed._

_ Or his third option: he could close the space between himself and his friend in front of him. He could break the space between them and let everything out. He could pull Seamus in, to hold him tight against his chest and pretend he never had to let go. He could bury his face into Seamus’s neck and allow himself for the first time to weep. Let his fear out while they still could, while emotions wouldn’t be a distraction like they would be on the front lines, and maybe Seamus would cry too. Dean wasn't sure, he had truthfully never seen Seamus cry before. So even if he didn’t, they could do whatever they wanted knowing that it probably wouldn't matter, as they might not even make it past the next year. There would be no pressure to decide what they were, they could just not worry, for once. _

_ As he was considering his options there was a knock on the door and in a very motherly fashion Seamus’s mother opened the door without waiting for a response. Much like many things in this war, Seamus and Dean didn't get to make this choice for themselves. They were forced to move forward into uncertainty again. _

* * *

 

Back in the present, Dean placed his hands on Seamus’s shoulders. 

“Shay…” he emitted a sigh and looked at him. “Babe, look at me,” He told him. Seamus looked up at him and it was apparent on his face that he was so focused, so locked up. It made something inside of Dean sting. 

He had almost never looked at him like that before, eyes guarded, almost trying to force Dean out.

“Let's relax okay. Want me to draw a bath for us?” He asked. “I’ll draw a bath with the vanilla stress relief potion you like and we can just sit there. You don't have to say anything yet if you don't want to,” he assured him. Seamus nodded dulley and stood. Dean headed up to stairs to their master bathroom. 

The bathroom was rather large, with a high end shower and large corner tub with Jacuzzi jets. The master bathroom was probably the nicest part of the flat. After the war, Dean was almost immediately in Apothecary training and working two part time jobs and Seamus had started a very demanding muggle warehouse job back home in Ireland.He worked nights and it wiped him out. 

There was about. year or two after the war where they almost never saw each other. They wanted to make sure they had chances to spend time together. It wasn't that they needed to spend every minute of every day together, but when they went over a year only seeing each other once a month for an hour at most, if they were lucky, before Seamus or Dean passed out from their heavy work loads. Now even if they couldn't really see each other, they could occasionally share the shower in the mornings or take a hot bath before bed. 

Dean headed over to the tub, He turned on the faucet and let the warm water start to fill the it. After adding some of the potion Dean went to the closet and retrieved two towels. 

When he went back downstairs, Seamus was cleaning up the pot he dropped. Dean quickly joined him on the floor. When he set the pot in the sink and bent down to help Seamus wipe up the broth residue. He would have used a charm but he knew Seamus sometimes wanted to do things by hand. He suddenly remembered something. 

“Seamus,” He started, not really sure how to ask him. He didn't want to make him shut down again. “What did you mean about protecting me?” He asked, moving to wring out the rag he was using in the sink before resuming his scrubbing.

“I can't really say,” He replied, not even wanting to think about the news.

“Why?” Asked Dean. “Confidencial Auror stuff?” Dean understood but he still wasn't used to all the secrecy.

“Does your aunt Lindsey still live in Quebec?” Asked Seamus in response, still scrubbing the same spot on the floor he had been when Dean walked over.

“Um. Oui?” His reply sounded like a question, taken aback by the random thought. He could truthfully only remember speaking about this aunt to Seamus a handful of times.She was a squib and a little bit bitter about it at times, She had moved to Canada when Dean was thirteen and hadn't seen her since, besides the occasional holiday and birthday card. “I don't see what she has to do with this though,” he stated plainly. 

“If at any point I tell you to get your dad and your siblings and go stay with her… I need you to do it without any questions,” He replied a bit cryptically but Dean could understand.

“If you think I'm just going to run away at your command, then I'm going to have to consider the fact that the concussion you got in the spring caused some brain damage,” He said seriously and without missing a beat. “Floor is clean,” He stood, tossing the rag into the sink. “The bath should be full now too,” He took the rag Seamus was using and tossed that into the sink as well.

The Sandy haired boy stood and looked at Dean for a second. Dean started back at him for a moment before Seamus laughed a little, totally changing the atmosphere. 

“You're amazing, you know?” he smiled taking a step closer to him. The taller man cracked a small smile.

“I know.” 

He replied playfully and lead him by hand back up to their room.

When they reached the bathroom Dean shut of the water and pulled off his shirt, Seamus following suit. It didn't take long before they were were settled into the warm water. 

Seamus moved closer to his boyfriend. He felt a little more relaxed than he had at the start of the evening but he still wasn't his best. He still had a lot to think about and a lot to deal with. He tilted his head and pressed a feather light kiss on Dean’s adam’s apple . Dean smiled a little and ran a wet hand through his boyfriend’s hair. 

“Sometimes I wonder if this is real or of I'm just going to wake up somewhere,” He admitted. There was something about being with Seamus that had always felt right to him.

“Well, I mean our life was a shitty tellie drama at one point,” Seamus replied, remembering their first kiss.

“It was was not!” Dean argued, offended. “Our life is at  _ least _ a low budget Hallmark film,” He replied, remembering the night that they stayed up watching the terrible movies one of his American cousins had sent him. 

“Are you going to sit here and pretend our first kiss never happened? They could make a bad action film around that stunt alone,” Seamus accused Dean.

“That's not true,” said Dean a little defensively. He wondered to himself why Seamus would say that. One would think that at least once in the last nine years one of them would have brought it up but they never did. 

“Dean. You nearly knocked me flat down on my arse, in the middle of a battle, your shoulder is still fucked from the spell that hit it on your way over.” As Seamus spoke Dean could still remember it. 

The moment he laid eyes on Seamus, He knew he had to get to him. When he did he just sort of lost himself. Dean had rushed him and cupped Seamus’s face; not wasting any time he crashed his lips into his leaving them both breathless when they pulled a apart.

“First of all; Thats the biggest exaggeration I have ever heard. You were maybe  _ twenty _ yards away. Secondly: What made you bring that up?” He asked him, staring at the wall behind Seamus’s head, trying to force away the phantom smells of backfired magic and burning flesh that began to overwhelm his senses. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to calm down.

“I don't know,” Seamus shrugged his shoulders. “I was just thinking about it,” He closed his eyes and he allowed himself to try to relax further.

Dean continued to stroke his hair lightly. After a bit, Seamus moved over to Dean again. He pressed a kiss to Dean’s jaw, and then another to his neck and shoulder. 

“Better?” Asked Dean. Seamus’s lips moved to his neck and Dean’s hand traced circles into Seamus’s back. He was determined to distract both himself and Dean. He raised a hand to the back of Dean’s neck and nipped softly. The taller man’s fingers dug into Seamus’s back slightly in surprise.

“Prat,” He muttered. “The water is getting cold let's dry off and get to bed, suggested Dean. It had been a long day for both of them. In response Seamus moved his lips to the other side of his neck. 

“Let's just stay for a bit,” as Seamus’s hand began to trail down Dean’s body, over his chest, He claimed Dean’s lips with his own. He knew Dean’s body almost better than his own. Every freckle, every dimple, Seamus had explored. Dean took his hand as he ventured a little too far down.

“Shay,” Said Dean seriously. 

“What Dean?” Asked Seamus, sighing and pressing his face against Dean’s neck.

“Let's go to bed and I'll kiss you as much as you want, but I don't want to fool around.” Dean spoke calmly.

“Alright. But why?” He asked, handing and grabbing a towel. “I figured we could have a little fun after all this crap,” 

Dean grabbed his own towel.

“The absolute last thing I'm going to do with you tonight is mess around,” He told him firmly. Honestly calming Seamus down was beginning to stress  _ him _ out. With both of them still standing upright in the tub, towels around their waists, Seamus wrapped his arms round Dean, pressing his face against him for a moment.

“Why’s that, love?” Asked Seamus, his face still against Dean, He got a sigh in return.

“Because my boyfriend is having some sort of psychotic break and won't even look me in the eyes,” He replied plainly. “That doesn't really get me revving to go,” He leaned down slightly and kissed Seamus’s cheek.

“Sorry,” said Seamus, pulling away from Dean and stepping out of the tub.

Dressed and in bed, the two of them faced each other but Seamus wouldn't meet Dean’s eyes. A hand came up to cup Seamus’s face, a thumb stroking his lips.

“You never have to hide your feelings from me. 

Seamus still wasn't looking at him, so Dean continued. 

“Okay darling? We are a team.” he said seriously. “We will work through whatever it is.” 

He scooted over a little and pressed his lips to Seamus’s, just a soft peck.

They laid like that for a long time, neither of them saying a word until Seamus turned away him. It wasn't much longer after that when Seamus completely broke down. He curled up tightly in a ball and tried to hide his face as he sobbed quietly. 

Dean didn't hesitate to pull Seamus tightly against him, keeping up a calm front. He had to take care of Seamus for right now.

“Shhh,” He murmured, kissing his shoulder, one arm came across Seamus’s chest, holding onto his shoulder so his back as pressed firmly to Dean. He had no idea what to do in that moment, so he just held him and tried to reassure him. His thumb gently kneaded his shoulder as he pressed a soft kiss to the back of his boyfriends sandy hair.

“I feel like I'm going to explode,” Seamus admitted with a shaky breath. 

“Then explode,” Dean’s lips at his ear. “Let out whatever you're holding onto to. I'll hold you together while you do. Then we'll go from there, but you need to let go,” Dean’s words assured Seamus slightly. He turned over and muffled a small frustrated.scream into Dean’s hard chest. In response the taller man pressed his lips to his temples and rubbed soothing circles into his back.

By the time Seamus gained his composure, several hours had passed. When he finally fell asleep Dean followed suit.

When Seamus awoke the next afternoon he turned over to find the bed empty. He frowned and stood, the bathroom door was open so he headed downstairs. Across from the stairs the smaller downstairs bathroom was closed. He frowned, his eyebrows pulling together as he approached the door. When he got a few steps away he could hear Dean.

Dean sniffed, sat up against the bathroom door with a phone in his hand. He was usually a quiet crier, mainly silent tears of frustration. So this surprised Seamus.

“I just had no idea what to do,” He spoke into the phone, his voice quivering slightly. “He won't talk to me. I don't know Kelsey,” Seamus realised his was talking to one of his sisters. Kelsey was the oldest of the three he had and she was a squib. “I don't know how to help him,” Dean confided, leaning his head back against the door. He sniffed again and wiped his eyes. “I can't watch him do this to himself, whatever this is…” 

Seamus took a deep breath and knocked on the door. Dean stood up quickly with a mumbled ‘I'll call you back’ to his sister before he hung up the phone and exited the bathroom. He couldn't play dumb because he knew Seamus had heard of him, He wouldn't have knocked if he hadn't heard.

“I thought I would be back before you woke up,” He admitted, wiping his face again. 

“You know that diner that we saw when we checked this place out?” He asked, referring to the small family run place about a block down. Dean nodded once, eyeing Seamus incredulously. He wouldn't put it past it past him to change the subject. 

“How about we grab a bite and we can… chat,” he offered.

Dean agreed.

* * *

When they arrived at the diner it surprisingly wasn't very busy, but they definitely stuck out. Seamus and Dean were the only ones dressed in muggle clothing. They sat down at a booth by the window. It only took a moment for a house elf to appear. Seamus frowned slightly before he noticed that this elf wore a small set of clothes. 

“Hi, are you boys new in town, or just passing through?” She asked with a smile.

“Oh, we moved in a couple weeks ago. We own the build on Ogden,” Dean said with a friendly smile. “I'm Dean and this is my boyfriend Seamus,” He introduced them as the boys took menus from her.

“I'm Jax,” she replied then turned. “Hey! Rodger. The new Apothecary is here!” she called to the back, a young man poked his head out of the window. Dean and Seamus both offered their hands to her. She shook them.

“I've never shaken hands with any of the wizards who come through here,” she admitted. The wizarding world still wasn't too friendly to house elves, but Hermione was working on that of course. It was hard with a majority of house elves being manipulated into thinking they were fine with things as they were.

“Oh great! I’ll be there in a second.” He stepped out of the kitchen while Jax poured them some coffee. When the man emerged, Seamus and Dean looked at him. He was tall with very boyish looks, his hair was a beautiful brindle and he kept it pushed back. 

“I'm Rodger Bridget,” He greeted him. Seamus shook his hand. 

“Seamus Finnigan, this is my boyfriend, Dean Thomas the Apothecary,” He introduced them. Dean shook Rodgers hand.

“It is so great that you guys bought the place. It's been empty about twenty years. Well, Welcome to Pellings. We're always happy to see new faces in town,” He smiled. Behind them in the other booth 

“Great to meet you too Rodger,” said Dean Seamus nodded and smiled but wasn't sure what to really say.

“I'll let you guys order, but if you ever need anything send me an owl,” He told them before disappearing back into the kitchen.

Both men ordered burgers and when Rodger came back he spoke to Seamus.

“So what do you do?” He leaned on the booth casually.

“I'm an auror. Dark Wizard Hunter the department Potter runs,” the diner went silent and heads turned.

“Potter huh? He mused. “Interesting,” He nodded.

When they were nearly finished with lunch a young boy rushed up to their booth, a woman, Seamus assumed was his mother following behind him. Seamus internally rolled his eyes, usually he was more than happy to answer the million question he often got from kids but he really wanted get back to his flat and talk to Dean Of course it would be his luck that the locals were so friendly.

“Auror Finnigan?”

“I'm really sorry,” his mother apologised, a bit embarrassed.

“He's fine, ma’am,” Seamus looked to the boy. “What's yer name?” He asked him.

“I'm Caleb!” He replied confidently. 

“What can I do for you Caleb?” He asked.

“Can I ask you a question?” The boy beamed up at Seamus with innocent admiration. Seamus repressed a frown and nodded.

“Of course you can,” He turned to face the boy, the question concerned him greatly. He waited for the usual innocent kid questions that they were too young to realise weren't appropriate, like  _ Have you ever killed anyone? _

“Is Harry Potter nice? Were you in Gryffindor like him?” The boy asked. The auror looked at him for a second. He wasn't expecting such a… Wholesome question.

“He’s very nice. Yes I was Gryffindor too,” Said Seamus. “Auror Weasley,  Professor Longbottom at Hogwarts, Dean and I, we were all roommates,” he informed the child, taking another sip of his coffee.

“He starts at Hogwarts next year. It's all he's talking about,” She explained. Seamus couldn't help but laugh.

“Do you know all the professors at Hogwarts?” the boy asked. 

“I'm sorry,” His mother apologised for him. 

Seamus laughed. “I don’t mind at all,” He assured her, though it was a lie. “I only know Longbottom, the rest are either a bit older. Watch out for the headmistress though. That woman has eyes everywhere,” He laughed. “You should tell her you’re Seamus Finnigan’s successor, give her a good fright,” He told him. “I had a nasty habit of causing explosions,” He noted. No matter how tired or burnt out he was, he couldn't pass up an opportunity to mess with McGonagall. 

“Okay!” Replied the boy who then moved on.

“That was cute,” said Dean. 

“Let's just get out of here,” was all Seamus said. “I'm tired,” 

Dean asked for the check. It read 

_ On the house! Welcome to the neighbourhood! _

_ -Rodger! _

Dean smiled a bit and called a thank you to Rodger before stepping out into the winter air. Dean tried to brace himself for whatever Seamus would tell him.

“Friendly town,” Seamus commented, linking his arm with Dean’s as they walked. 

“Very. We'll have to pick a day to explore more,” 

 

* * *

When they got inside Seamus seated himself at the table, Dean followed. 

“You alright?” Seamus asked him. Dean scoffed.  _ Me?  _ He thought.  _ He's asking about Me?  _ Dean inhaled through his nose.

“I will be when you talk to me,” He told him; placing a hand on Seamus’s leg.

“I'm having a hard time,” He admitted, rubbing his arm. “I've been having a hard time since the battle,” He didn't meet Dean’s eyes. “It was easy to manage at first, but then I started taking care of Hermione… it got harder to act like I was okay. Then Ron suggested I switch go a less demanding branch. So essentially he wants to fire me,”  

Dean gave his leg a reassuring squeeze.

“I'll talk to my mentor. He might be able to teach me some things to help you,” He put the idea on the table, hoping that Samus would accept.

“Okay,”

“I think you should switch to the less demanding job too,” He hoped Seamus would agree, because he couldn't watch him break down like this.

-“This one pays a lot,” 

-“So? The other job pays plenty,” 

-“I need to be able to prove that I can provide for you,” 

“You don't have faith in me?” 

Seamus sighed heavily, pinching his nose between his thumb and forefinger. 

“No of course I do. This isn't about you,” 

“You're the one who's insisting you need to provide for me,” Dean retorted.

“I want us to have a chat about er- muggles,” started Seamus, Dean waited for him to go on. “Some muggles expect men to sort of… Be in control,” He looked up at Dean. “Its pretty old fashioned but some think women should stay home and raise kids, like Purebloods,” 

“Okay. Well, I'm a wizard and a grown man. I'm not a muggle woman that needs to be provided for,” he insisted, not fully grasping that it was a cultural stereotype and not a fact. “Shay. I don't expect anything from you,” 

“Let me talk, Dean,” Seamus sighed. “Look, I reckon we both know that… Well… This is it. This is going to be the next hundred years of our lives,” He turned to face him. “It's going to be you and it's going to be me,”  It felt almost weird saying it outloud. They had both thought it for so long but it had never been vocilosed.

“I know that,” He replied “I think I've always known that.” He paused. “But I'll admit that I like saying it,” 

“I'm going back to Ireland for Christmas, I'm going to show my father that I can provide for a family and tell him about us,” Seamus finished. “This is about me proving myself to my father that I'm not a kid anymore and that I'm serious about us. I'm hoping it'll help warm him up to the idea,” He explained.

Dean nodded. 

“Okay, we can do things your way for now, but if things get hard again, you have to talk to me,” Dean threw an arm around his boyfriends shoulders and pressed his lips to Seamus’s temple. 

“I promise,” said Seamus. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Charlie finally hecken shows up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I am now updating again by some miracle (HUGE shout out to dun_lear_ee thank you so much for all your help beta reading!)

Back at the trio’s flat, things were just as rocky. Ron and Hermione had fallen asleep together. Ron laid beside her, one hand on her arm. If he was honest, things were a little different with Hermione. There had always been an awkwardness between them leftover from how much they used to fight; he reckoned sometimes they got a little keyed up just being in the same room. So they definitely didn't get as close as he and Harry did, or as Harry and Hermione did. It was like a strained brother-sister relationship. They loved each other, even if they didn't always get along.

When Hermione awoke she walked to the kitchen to find Harry nursing a black eye. Her getting out of bed had woken Ron as well who followed tiredly.

“What the hell, Harry?” Hermione demanded.

She moved across the kitchen to inspect his face. It looked worse than it probably was, she decided upon closer inspection. Harry was rather pale, which often made his bruises look worse than they were.

“I … accidently hit my face on my bedside table.” he said before taking a sip of his coffee, hoping to leave the conversation at that. 

“Of course you bloody did." she sighed. 

When Ron made his way into the kitchen and saw Harry holding a bag of peas to his face he rolled his eyes.

“I swear you lot forget about magic all the ruddy time,” Ron opened that cabinet above the stove and pulled out a small jar. “Sit down.”

Ron followed Harry to the breakfast bar and they sat down. Ron carefully removed the lid of the jar while mumbling something neither of his friends could make out. 

“Close your eye, this stuff burns like you wouldn't believe if it gets in there,” he instructed. 

Harry closed his eyes at Ron’s request and Ron coated the forming bruise with the salve. It disappeared into his skin within seconds and the bruise faded. Hermione took a moment to respect how much her friend had matured over the years.

Hermione watched them curiously. There was definitely something different about this situation. Ron seemed concerned and he was sporting that face he always made when he felt guilty. 

“Are we still going to the burrow tonight?” Hermione asked, leaning against the door. 

“Yes we are,” said Ron. 

“I'm going to call Andromeda,” said Harry, disappearing into the other room, leaving Hermione and Ron in the kitchen. Ron groaned.

“What's the matter Ronald?” 

“I start this stupid shadowing thing today,’” he whined.

“What’s that?” Hermione sat down at the kitchen table. 

Ron poured himself a cup of coffee as he spoke. “Some kid from the Auror Academy is going to follow me around and put his sticky hands all over my office.” 

“Ron, the kids at the academy are seventeen, and when are your hands  _ not _ sticky?” Hermione raised an eyebrow, judging his hypocrisy.

“Some of them are complete idiots,” he replied. “Might as well be seven.” 

Harry returned. “She didn't answer,” he said, then joined into their conversation. “How did we fight in a war when we were seventeen? I wouldn't trust half these kids to wash my car.”

“Harry. You don't even let Ron touch your car.” Hermione crossed her arms and cocked an eyebrow at him.

“Of course not! He would leave chocolatey fingerprints all over it,” he countered. Harry drove an expensive car that Hermione could never remember the brand name of - it was one of the only things of serious value that he owned - and he was  _ obsessed  _ with it. She would have said something about it, but she knew that it was his outlet. The car was something he could control; he controlled who touched it, who went near it, he controlled what colour he painted it. It provided some small therapy for the years of his life where his boundaries were constantly being violated and nearly all of his choices had been made for him.

“Hey!” Ron’s interjection was muffled around the handful of jaffa cakes he had just inhaled.

“You two are such dorks,” she laughed a little. 

Harry sat himself on the sofa. “Also, Luis is a smart kid. I've seen his work. You'll have nothing to worry about with him. I don't know anything about Maxwell though.

As he spoke Grayson, who had taking a strange and sudden liking to Harry, leaped into the sofa and settled himself into the dark haired boy’s lap. As The Boy Who Lived ran his hand from the animal’s head to the base of its tail, the cat pushed against his hand and purred.

“Well, I guess I'm going to get dressed for work,” he sighed. “Thanks for picking up shirts for me, Hermione.” Ron disappeared down the hall.

“Good thing he likes you,” said Hermione. “He hates Seamus,”

“He’s a good cat,” replied Harry.

“Why did you call Andromeda?” 

“No reason.” 

Hermione gave him a look.

“Fine,” Harry started. “I wanted to ask her if I could take Teddy to the Burrow. I feel like we never see him anymore.” 

“Oh,” she sat beside him on the sofa. “You're right,” she touched his shoulder. “You must be thinking about him a lot right now,” she sympathised. 

Harry had become an auror with the intent of making sure there wouldn't be another time where children had to fight. Where his Godson and his generation could be allowed to grow up without facing what their parents had. 

“I am,” he admitted. “Can you believe he's going to be nine soon?” He scratched under the cat’s chin. 

“I can't,” Hermione started. “I remember when we used to take him to Diagon Alley and he always wanted to ride on your shoulders,” she smiled softly. 

“I remember when he used to change his hair colour to tell us who he wanted.” Harry noted.

“And when it was ginger all the Weasleys had to play hot potato until he stopped crying,” Hermione finished. 

“What house do you think he'll be in?” Harry asked.

“Hmm … Ravenclaw maybe,” she mused. “Or Hufflepuff like his mom. I think McGonagall needs a break,” she chuckled. 

“Yeah,” he smiled, a note of sadness in his voice. 

“We’ll figure this out, Harry,” she assured him. “I'm going to the Ministry library today to do some research on the calling card that Alma left,” she told him.

“Alright,” he nodded.

* * *

When Ron arrived at work he headed down to the classroom on the paper he was given. When he looked in there were a few other Aurors, but the only one he recognised was Theodore Nott and his old Auror Academy professor Stephen Heartstone,whom he gave a quick wave in greeting. The students were talking animatedly amongst themselves.

“Oi, is a Luis Lark here?” he asked. Chatter stopped and heads turned. 

Suddenly the room erupted in whispers.

“Luis got Weasley?” asked a girl.

“That can't be right!” a boy added.

“He's such a square!” said another boy.

“Who just called him a square? What are you, eighty? Whatever,” he rolled his eyes. “I'm gonna ask again, Luis Lark?” Ron was growing more and more annoyed, and he hadn’t even met the kid. “Oh, and someone named Maxwell Park?” 

A boy towards the front of the class quickly gathered up all of his things and rushed to the doorway. Ron looked him over. He was average height, with a similar build to Ron’s. His hair was blonde and cropped short.

“That's me, Auror Weasley. I'm Luis. Maxwell isn't here. He's late.”

“Come with me,” said Ron, heading down the hall. 

Luis followed in almost complete silence.

When they reached his office Ron swiped a pile of chocolate frogs off of his desk.

“You can put your book there. I recommend leaving it home tomorrow though. You won’t need it for a while.”

Luis set the book down, and waited for further instruction.

“Uh. You can sit down.” Ron pointed to the chair on the opposite side of his desk. Luis took a seat.

“Okay, relax.” Luis told himself in a whisper. 

“I don't bite,” Ron laughed a little, smiling at the boy’s awkwardness. “Sorry. I guess I'm a bit grumpy. There’s a high priority case right now that's holding up most of my attention,” he admitted. “As long as you're making an effort, I'll give you a good report.” Ron started to sign off on a few forms.

“Yes Sir.” Luis nodded. 

“Just call me Ron. We’ll probably be working together in a couple of years anyways,” he shrugged.

“Right.”

“I think this is a new record,” said Ron, checking his watch. It was the same one his mother had given him for his seventeenth birthday several years before.

“What is?”

“I've had a shadow for ten minutes and he hasn't asked me a single question about Harry Potter,” he laughed light heartedly. 

“Oh. I don't really care about Harry Potter,” he admitted then paused. “Well… Obviously I do, but I'm not here to learn about Harry Potter,” he clarified. 

“I get it. Do you have any questions about the shadowing though?” Asked Ron as a few memos took flight out of his office.

“Oh um … What are you doing there?” He asked, pointing to the papers on Ron’s desk.

“Well. Harry is The Head Auror, and I'm sort of second in command. Nothing happens without one of us authorising it,” he explained. He passed one of the documents to Luis. “This one is just to move some auror-related files to another part of the ministry,” he explained. “Some of these are more confidential. I can't show you them,” he sighed another set. 

“Oh. Okay.”

“You like Quidditch?” Asked Ron. 

“I don't really have time for sports.” said Luis.

“Your last name is Lark, right?” he checked. 

“Yes si- Ron,” Luis corrected himself.

“You're not related to Harold Lark are you?”

“That’s my father.”

“You're joking?” Ron nearly snorted.

“No,” he shook his head. 

“Your dad and I go back a bit,” he smiled. “He was actually the head of me and Harry’s first auror team.”

“He never told me that.”

“He tries really hard to keep his personal and work life separate, nice bloke though,” Ron shrugged.

A few moments later there was a knock at the door. 

Ron flicked his wand and the door opened.

“Auror Weasley, Sir.” came a voice from the doorway. The child spoke between laboured breaths. 

Ron glanced up at the boy and half of his mouth tilted up in a smile. Standing before him was a very out of breath teenager, a little on the chubby side. Ron likened him to a young Neville Longbottom.

“Maxwell?” he guessed.

“Yes sir. I'm sorry I'm late,” he panted.

“You're here,” Ron shrugged. “Now that you're both here we can talk about how this is going to go.”

The boys both nodded.

“Your class is the largest that the academy’s had since like -- ever I guess,” started Ron. “So I got two of you. You guys will help me out with my daily duties and when I decide that you're ready for a field mission. You'll both attend your regular classes one day out of the week. Wednesday for Luis and Friday for Max.” he explained. 

“Understood,” said Luis seriously. 

The other boy simply nodded.

_ This kid is like a clone of his dad _ , Ron thought awkwardly. Harold Lark was one of the most serious men that Ron had ever met. He was friendly but almost as serious as McGonagall.

* * *

Back at the flat, Hermione sat on the sofa with a book, Ned beside the door as was his routine. They were waiting for Seamus’s substitute to arrive.

“Ned?” Hermione spoke after a minute.

“Yes Miss Granger?” 

“I heard Seamus’s sub is very pretty. Try to behave yourself,” Hermione’s tone was playful but he didn't respond. “Humour me a little,” Hermione urged. “There must be something you enjoy.” she pried.

“I like cats,” he allowed after a moment. 

“I have two cats,” said Hermione. “Grayson, and then another who's hiding because he's mad he's not the only cat anymore,” she laughed.

"My Roxy is a retired show cat,” he told her smugly, his nose upturned slightly.

_ Yuck _ , thought Hermione.  _ What an unpleasant human. _

“That's something. Do you have muggle family then?” She asked, seeing as something as common as a cat show as probably more muggle-oriented.

“Yes. Both my parents are muggles.”

There was a knock at the door. Hermione stood, but before she even got close Ned was opening the door for her.

“Why didn't you apparate in, Ames?” Asked Ned.

“I was being considerate. Didn't you read her file?” Asked the woman as she came into view. She was tall with a narrow but small frame. Her skin was a deep chestnut colour and her hair was a beautiful dark brown.

“I have a file?” Asked Hermione, crossing her arms. 

“Yes, it's in the case file,” Ames nodded and approached Hermione, offering a hand. “I'm Magnolia, or Mag, Ames. I'll be filling in for Seamus on his days off.”

Hermione shook her hand.

“It's lovely to meet you. Can I see that?” She asked, pointing to the file in her hand. Magnolia paused but then handed it over. 

The file was pretty straightforward, a photo of Hermione paperclipped to one side and one of Alma on the other.

She also noticed a handwritten note:

_ Careful of slamming doors  _

_ don't touch her without asking  _

_ call me if there's an emergency _

_ -Auror Finnigan _

Hermione frowned slightly; she wasn't sure if she appreciated the thought or if she felt weird about the other aurors knowing about her trauma.

* * *

 

Once they arrived at the ministry, Hermione made her way down to the Records Hall. It was deserted, which was to be expected.

“Ms. Granger!” Called Buford from behind the restricted area. “It is so great to see you back in the office!”

“Hello Buford,” said Hermione with a hard smile. She had always been a bit put off by the man - he was a bit too eccentric for her liking - but he was nice enough, so she was civil. 

“Is there anything I can assist you with?” he asked.

“I'm actually looking for any information we might have on dragons,” she informed him.

Her shadows fell into step behind her.

“We have to deal with this old codger?” complained Ned.

“Ned!” Hermione hissed. “I have tried to be civil but I swear you get more and more unpleasant the more time I spend around you,” exhaling heavily she headed off in the direction that Burford pointed out to her.

“You want to look at me and tell me he's not mad as a hatter?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest as they walked. Mag stayed quiet, following behind Hermione.

“Better to be mad and pleasant than sane and … like you.” Hermione had trouble finding a way to end that sentence. 

“Ah yes,” began Mag. “Just as gran would always say: Better to be mad and pleasant than sane and like Ned.” She laughed whimsically, hiding it behind her hand in a rather innocent looking action. 

Hermione wasn't fooled by her ‘soft’ appearance in the least. An auror of her rank must have really been able to pack a punch. Part of Hermione wished she could see her in action.  _ Perhaps her specialty was defensive spells? Or maybe fire? _ Hermione could easily envision this sprightly witch commanding a great flame serpent, cutting down everything in her path with the slightest flick of her wrist.  

She figured that Ned was more direct, strictly offensive spells. She pictured him storming to the front, showing no mercy, cutting down anyone who got in his way. 

“Here we are,” Hermione mused as she began to pull a few books from the shelves, muttering a charm that allowed the stack to hover behind her as she made her way down the aisle. Hermione admittedly knew next to nothing about dragons. The majority of the knowledge came from things Ron said in passing, which were all second hand facts from his older brother. Giant fire breathing monsters didn't exactly pique her interest. 

Once she was satisfied with her stack she headed to one of the tables in the front and began her search. Most of the books had to be cleared of dust before they could be read, which was a chore all its own. 

After what seemed like several lifetimes, Hermione managed to narrow down the dragon on the card to about thirty seven different subspecies of dragon. She groaned loud in and dipped her head down onto the table.

“Are you alright, Granger?” asked Mag.

“Yes. I'm just a bit burnt out,” admitted Hermione before she lifted her head up. “I'm sorry to drag you both through this,” she said genuinely before pushing herself up. 

When they returned to the front, Buford had already locked up the restricted area he guarded and left for the evening. 

They made their way out into the hall and Hermione was surprised to see a tall figure moving towards her. His face bore a friendly smile as he approached her.

“Ms. Granger, it's so wonderful to see you back at the ministry,” he said genuinely. 

“Auror Lark,” she smiled. “I'm afraid I was just here to check the Records Room. I won't be officially returning until after the holidays.”

“Oh, what a shame. My sincerest condolences, Alma was such a wonderful part of this place. We all loved her but I know she was family to you,” he said, smiling sadly.

“She was. I'm going to find out who did this,” she replied with determination.

“If you ever need anything I hope you will reach out me. I consider Harry and Ron dear friends and you know that extends to you too,” he glanced at her security detail. “Ned, Mag,” he greeted them with a smile.

“Auror Lark,” said Mag, a flush filling her cheeks.

Hermione had to keep herself from raising her eyebrows at Mag. _Everyone has their type I suppose_ , Hermione thought to herself. Auror Lark wasn't exactly her type. She wasn't really into old fashioned men old enough to be her father.

“Boss.” Ned nodded. 

“It was good to see you,” said Hermione, “But we really must be going,” she said, politely departing to return home.

* * *

The next two days passed in a blur for Hermione. On the third day,  Seamus returned to work. Ned arrived at the flat early in the morning, directly after Harry and Ron had left for work. Seamus had arrived an hour before.

“Good morning Ted,” said Seamus.

“It's Ned,” he snapped.

“That's what I said,  _ Jed _ ,” Seamus replied and went over to the kitchen and started to make pancakes. 

Hermione made her way out of her bedroom a bit later.

“Hi boys.” she mumbled.

“Ma’am.” replied Ned.

“I made pancakes!” Seamus grinned and offered her a plate. She took it and sat at the table, mumbling a thanks.

“So,” began Hermione as she took a big bite of pancakes. “mmm,” she hummed. “Are we going to talk about the other day?” She had lived with Ron for too long, he was starting to rub off on her.

“What do you mean?” Seamus asked, playing dumb as he came to sit down beside her.

“You seemed distracted.”

“I don't know what you mean,” he tried to lie. Seamus never was any good at lying; his face always gave him away.

“You seemed stressed,” she replied.

“I've just got a lot on my mind,” he shrugged.

“Enlighten me.” 

“You're dealing with stuff,” he argued.

“Yes, and I need a distraction.” She urged him to continue.

“I want to ask Dean to marry me.”

“And?  _ That's  _ why you're acting so weird?” Her eyebrows pulled together.

“So…. it means that when I go back to Ireland for Christmas, I'm telling my family everything.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

“Oh. Do you want me to go with you?”

“Thank you, but I have to do this on my own,” he told her, smiling weakly. “I just have a lot of stuff to fix before I propose. I’m overwhelmed myself.”

“Okay,” she nodded, conceding though she wanted to insist. She respected his boundaries. “No matter what happens, you have friends who love you. We’re your family too.” She reminded him.

Seamus would wait to tell her that he was struggling too. He felt like she shouldn't have to worry about him, but she was his best friend. He wanted to tell her about the conversation he and Dean had had, he wanted to tell her that he's doing his best but it never feels like enough - but he didn't. Hermione was grieving.

Hermione closed the space between them to wrap her arms around him in a tight hug.

“Now,” she began as she pulled back. “How do we keep two affairs from your wife?” her tone was teasing.

Seamus couldn't help but laugh with her.

* * *

 

“We need something to do together,” said Hermione.

They had just finished lunch and Seamus and Hermione were lounging on the sofa, their shoulders touching. Seamus gazed out the sliding glass door as Hermione read her monthly copy of _The Silver Quill_ , a magazine pertaining to publishing in the wizarding world.

“Like what?” asked Seamus.

“I don't know. Have you any interest in French?”

“Sure.” 

“Have any hidden talents?”

“I can box.” 

“I've never been good at that. Maybe you could teach me a few things?” She seemed hopeful about the idea.

“Sounds good.” Seamus nudged her with his arm. “I won't go easy on you though.”

“I may look small but I can hold my own,” she grinned at him. Hermione was a mere five-foot four, and that counted her bushy hair, but her years of lugging mountains of books around a place as big as Hogwarts had earned her a decent amount of upper arm strength.

“I’m looking forward to this!”

* * *

“I don't hear you counting,” Hermione informed Seamus, pushing him a little as her wrapped fist met the heavy bag.

“Dix,”

Her first it the bag again with a thump.

“onze,”

_ Thump _

“douze,”

_ Thump _

_ “ _ trezie.”

_ Thump _

“Keep your feet planted, they keep slipping,” he instructed. “ _ Lies pieds _ ?” he tried.

“Great,” she smiled, and they continued. “At this rate, I could probably take Ron down,” she joked.

“Maybe I'll move to France,” he chuckled.

About an hour later, Seamus had managed to count to thirty before he started over and Hermione had made an attempt to focus on keeping her feet from losing position. 

“I'm worried about Christmas,” his voice was quiet.

“I know,” said Hermione gently.

* * *

Back at the flat Hermione had exhausted all the dragon books she’d borrowed from the ministry storage a week or so prior so she stood and emerged from her room, heading down the hall to knock on the door to Ron’s room.

 

Ron was seated on his bed, with a pamphlet in his hands, carefully reading it over in his hands.

“Yeah come in." he called.

Hermione entered the room and joined him on his bed, folding her legs to sit beside him. She glanced around the room at his mess and sighed, deciding not to bring it up.

“Are you …  _ reading _ ?” Asked Hermione, noting the pamphlet in his hands, but didn't snoop.

“Sort of,” he shrugged. “What do you need?” He asked, folding up the pamphlet and shoving it under his pillow.

“I need you to contact Charlie.”

“My brother?” Ron asked, his eyebrows pulling together.

“No. The  _ other _ Charlie we know.” She rolled her eyes at him.

“I guess … I haven't talked to him in a while but you can use my mini-floo to call him,” he explained, nodding to the small fire-pit looking device at the end of his bed. “But why?” He asked, giving her a confused look.

“Because I've dug through every single dragon book but I can't identify the dragon on the card that Alma left,” she explained.

“Oh.” Ron definitely felt weird about asking his brother for help on a case. It almost made him feel like he was back tracking. “Well, Romania is about two hours ahead of us, so we should call soon,” he informed her. Hermione walked over to the small floo and tapped her wand to it. 

“Charlie Weasley,” she spoke. Charlie answered fairly quickly, his face appearing in the flames. If Hermione was being honest she’d completely forgotten what he looked like. She had only met him three times. 

“You're not my brother,” he said.

“Oh joy, all the Weasleys are observant,” said Hermione. “It only took Ron four years to realise I was a girl, so congrats you're a few steps ahead of him,” she commented, smiling sweetly. 

“Right …” Charlie trialled off. “Who exactly are you?” He asked.

“I’m Hermione Granger, Ron’s friend,” she introduced herself.

“Oh right, I'm sorry I don't really remember you,” he admitted sheepishly. 

“I admittedly don't really remember you either so it's quite alright. We never really spoke directly.” 

Ron moved in closer to Hermione to come into view on Charlie’s floo. “Hey, Char,” he said. “Um. So … Yeah ….” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. Hermione noticed him tripping over his words and was honestly not okay with him breathing down her neck. “We kind if have a proble-”

“Ugh, Ron move, I can feel you breathing on my neck!” said Hermione and pushed him out of her personal space.

“Well excuse me while I just not breathe!” he shot back.

Charlie laughed a little, amused as he watched them bicker. 

Hermione cleared her throat. “What Ron’s proud arse is trying to say,” Hermione began, “is that the Ministry needs your help.”

“Oh, what do you need?”

“I need to identify this dragon,” Hermione held up the card. 

“Um,” Charlie started, rather awkwardly. “Ms Granger…” 

Ron sighed heavily and took the card from her hand. He sometimes forgot about the culture shock between wizards and muggles, until it was tossed in his face.

“Sorry. She doesn't really use the floo for calls. Hermione, he can't see that. All he sees is you holding a rectangle,” Ron explained, feeling a little more comfortable.

“Oh right,” said Hermione, a flush filling her cheeks. “Sorry,” she mentally wondered why wizards  _ can't just use MSN chat or something. _

“I'll be in London the weekend of January twelfth. Could I perhaps meet up with you and discuss this in person?”

“So you're just not coming home for Christmas again?” asked Ron, visibly put out. “That's great, does Mum know? You know she bloody cried last year when you didn't show.” Ron was visibly put out.

“I can meet you during that weekend. You can owl me when you get into town and we'll find a time to meet,” she smiled, ignoring Ron’s outburst. 

“Ronald,” said Charlie. “We can talk about that when Hermione isn't here.” He then looked at Hermione. “Sounds perfect.”

When the floo was turned off Ron started to laugh, needing a distraction from the news that his brother was skipping Christmas again.

“I can't believe you tried to show him the card on the floo,” he teased.

She hit his arm in response. “It's not funny! The floo is weird!” she argued, unable to fight the smile forming on her face at her own ridiculousness. Ron fell back on the bed and pulled her with him, tickling her sides. 

“Ooph-” she grumbled then broke into a fit of laughter, trying to shove his hands away. “You” - she laughed - “idiot,” Hermione flipped him over and he was admittedly surprised by her strength as she began to tickle his ribs. He roared with laughter.

When Harry arrived home moments later he could hear the commotion in the other room before he saw Hermione sprinting towards him, Ron trialling behind her. 

“Get Ron!” she laughed, hiding behind Harry. Harry smirked and turned catching her in his arms. “No!” she laughed. “I hate you both!” she pulled away from Harry.

Seconds later both Ron and Harry were teamed up against Hermione, but it wasn't long before Ron turned on Harry, causing him to release the small brunette from his grasp.

“ **THIS IS HIGH TREASON!** ” Harry roared, thrashing against Ron’s arms, but failing to get much movement as they were locked around him like a steel cage. Harry turned around in his arms and pushed firmly on the taller man’s chest, trying to stifle his laughter. They were close. Harry’s glasses were nearly fogging up from Ron’s breath. Harry’s eyes on his lips which were pulled into a goofy grin. Hermione could practically smell the tension.  _ Just kiss him _ , she thought with an eye roll. 

Ron and Harry broke apart when Hermione cleared her throat.

“Boys, while we’re all together I think we should make sure you all know what you're wearing for Christmas? Did you shop for all the nieces and nephews yet?” She asked. “We have to wait until after the holiday to search the property Alma left me, so we should try to focus on that and the evidence we have access to.” The Fairborne property was still being thoroughly checked for curses by curse breakers.

“I actually just went ahead and hired someone to do the shopping,” said Harry.

“What do you mean you hired someone?” asked Hermione, visibly confused.

“We were all so busy with the Fairborne case that I sort of gave my assistant a bonus to take care of that for us. Ron, you got Percy’s children some very educational toys -- they'll love them, and then for Dominique you got her some play make-up, Victorie one of those butterfly kits for her to do in the spring,” he smiled. “Oh and you got your father a muggle telly.” 

“You're a lifesaver mate!” said Ron. “I didn't have time to ask Hermione to help me,” he admitted sheepishly. “How did you know what they wanted?”

“We're over there all the time. I just notice what they like,” he shrugged. “Which reminds me, I've got to call Andromeda,” he disappeared into his room, pulling out his phone and dialing the number.

“Hello?” She shouted into the phone.

“Andy, you don't have to speak so  loudly, remember?” He reminded her. 

She cleared her throat, admittedly a bit embarrassed. 

“Oh … Yes. What can I do for you, Harry?” She asked. 

“I know It's outside my visitation, but I was wondering if I could stop by tomorrow and see Teddy?” He asked.

“Of course!” she replied. “Harry I've told you a dozen times you're more than welcome to see him any time.”

“Thanks, but don't tell him I’m coming by, I want to surprise him,” Harry said with a small smile. It had been weeks since he’d seen his godson or even had the chance to call him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah I haven't updated in months ... oops? Shout out to my AMAZING beta again tho dun_lear_ee has been a HUGE help on this project and I love her.

When Harry got to Andromeda’s he let himself in as he always did.

Teddy was finishing up his lunch when Andromeda heard the door.

“I think we have a visitor.” Andromeda snapped her fingers, sending his plate to the sink. “Go see who it is,” she said, giving him a knowing smile.

Teddy stood and headed towards the door, his face completely lighting up when he saw Harry.

“Uncle Harry!” He beamed.

Harry knelt down so he was closer to his height.

“Look at you!” He said, elated. “You’re so big! Can I get a hug?” He asked and Teddy threw his arms around Harry’s neck.

Harry wrapped his arms around the boy tightly.

“I missed you. You never visit anymore.”

“I missed you too buddy,” He smiled. “How about in the spring Aunt Hermione and I teach you how to ride your bike without the training wheels? Does that sound fun?” He asked.

“Yeah!” He agreed. He really liked the sound of that.

“I heard that Aunt Hermione got you some more dinosaurs, want to show me?” he asked. Teddy dragged him upstairs.

Between Harry helping Teddy name all of his new dinosaurs, then playing out in the snow until dark, Harry was able to pretend that everything was okay. When he was at Andromeda’s, he wasn’t The Boy Who Lived fighting off yet another uprising, he was just a man spending time with his godson.

“Teddy it's getting late,” commented Andromeda a bit later.

“I'll put him to bed. I want to talk to him about his Christmas gift that he's getting early,” offered Harry. Andromeda was becoming concerned; Harry had mentioned the future twice now. This wasn't like him. It seemed like he was holding onto it too tightly, it made her wonder if he was hiding something.

 

They headed upstairs and Harry tucked Teddy into bed after only a little bit of difficulty.

“Can you tell me a story?” .

Harry moved to sit beside him and he brushed his messy blue hair back.

“What kind of story would you like tonight?”

“Can you tell me a story about my dad?”

“Of course love,” He replied. “But first I want to give you your present,” He smiled and pulled out his phone, showing Teddy a photo on it. In the photo was a large bedroom with plain white walls and not really much besides a bed.

“What's that?” Teddy asked as he took the phone to look at the picture.

“Well. You know how I live in that flat with Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron?”

“Yes!” he smiled “Uncle Ron always has cookies,” he commented, recalling how he and Ron would bake cookies together. “And Aunt Hermione reads with me!”

“Well, I got a house.” Harry looked over at Teddy who was now inspecting the phone itself very curiously. “Gran and I talked and we decided that you're old enough to decide when you want to visit me. So I made sure that you have a room so that you can come visit whenever you want,” he explained, smiling, choosing to ignore the part of him that worried Teddy would never be able to come around to see this room; That he wouldn't get the chance to show it to him in person. “After the holiday we’ll decorate it however you want, How does that sound?”

Teddy grinned.

“This is the best!” He threw his arms up. “Thank you Uncle Harry! I can't wait to see!”

Harry couldn’t help but beam; he was overjoyed to see Teddy so happy.

“Okay, we’ll set everything up in the spring then, right after your birthday,” he told him. “But now it's time for bed.”

"Fine,” said Teddy, drawing out the word in very childish fashion. He opened his arms for a hug and Harry hugged him tightly.

“Now, your story. I have a great story about your parents,” he began. “When I was not much older than you, your father taught me so much.” He launched into a dramatised version of the Bogart lesson, painting Remus as a brilliant and brave hero. However, halfway though, Harry noticed that Teddy was asleep against his side. Harry smiled and pressed a kiss to the top of his head before carefully sliding out of the room, leaving a plush toy in his place.

Harry headed down the stairs and met Andromeda in the kitchen.

“He's already asleep?” She asked, surprised.

“Yes,” nodded Harry.

“You're good with him,” she smiled. “Is he excited about the house?” she asked. She eyed him cautiously, concern clear on her face.

“Yes,” Harry nodded.

“Are you going to tell me the problem or are we just going to exchange fake smiled until you find an excuse to leave?”

“There are some things happening, but I'm going to handle them,” he glanced over at her. “You and Teddy are safe.”

“Well that's good, but what about you, are you alright?”

“I lost someone close to me, but what else is new, right?” He laughed without humour.

Andromeda placed a hand on his arm.

“Is something happening again?”

“Yes, but we’re ahead of them. They won't win.”

“I will trust your judgment,” she replied. “But at the first sign of trouble you'll know where to find us,” she said softly.

Harry merely nodded.

While she was having lunch Hermione’s phone began to ring, the vibration causing the device to make an unpleasant sound against the wood of the table. Hermione answered it when Ron’s name appeared on the screen, along with his official Auror picture. The one Ron hated but Hermione insisted was ‘ _dashing_ ’.

“Hello?”

There was silence for a moment.

“Harry and I are going to be a little late tonight,” Ron finally spoke. His voice faltered slightly.

“What's wrong? Did something happen?” She stood from the table.

“Harry is in the hospital wing of the acad-” Hermione heard a loud crash in the background as he spoke.

“Get off me!” Hermione heard Harry shout in the background.

“Ron what’s happening?” Hermione asked, concern showing through her tone.

“Harry’s lost it, I have no better way to put it,” he closed his eyes tightly and moved out of the hospital wing, unable to bear the sounds of his friend in distress.

A healer approached Ron.

“Auror Potter is injured, but we can't assess the extent of the damage because he won’t settle. We need to give him a sedative. Restraining him isn't an option with the injuries we did find.” She held out a clipboard towards Ron. “But we need you to sign this consent form.”

“Hold on a second Hermione,” said Ron. He paused, holding the phone away from his ear.

“Is that the only option?” he worried his lower lip between his teeth.

“We have no information on the situation, Mr. Weasley. Our options are sedation, or risking ignoring fatal internal damage,” said the healer seriously.

“Give me the consent form,” Ron held out a hand. She handed it to him.

He put the phone back to his ear.

“Hermione, I need your brain and I need it fast,” he told her.

“What's going on?” she asked.

“They need me to sign a consent form. It's a 32AB,” he explained. “Do you know what that is?”

Hermione thought for a moment.

“Yes! I do. It's a wizarding treatment consent form. Not to worry about unless there's fine print on it.”

Ron searched the document but couldn't find anything.

“Mr. Weasley, every second is crucial,” she urged.

“Whatever he needs… Just do it.” He tapped his wand against the form.

Ron turned turned his focus back on Hermione.

“They're going to sedate him because they can't tell if he's injured internally or not,” added Ron.

“I'm coming in,” she told him. “I want him transferred to St. Mungos as soon as possible if he's injured,” she insisted.

“Stay at the flat. I'll bring him home when everything is over. It's not safe for you to travel right now,” he insisted. “It’ll be fine.” He tried to assure her; however, assuring was difficult, as even Ron was shaken by the day’s events and was struggling to keep his composure.

Hermione ignored Ron’s instructions and hung up. She shoved her phone into her pocket, desperately trying to push away the pit in her stomach as she grabbed a bag from the closet and headed into Harry’s room. Harry was a minimalist, luckily for Hermione.

The extent of his clutter was usually paperwork. She went over to his dresser and retrieved a few sets of clean clothes before going to Ron’s room and getting him a set of clothes as well, as they would both probably be staying overnight with Harry. When Hermione emerged from the hall Seamus glanced up at her with raised eyebrows.

“Where are we going?” He asked.

“Harry is in the hospital. I'm going to see him,” she informed Seamus, heading to the hall closet and getting her big coat. Her phone buzzed in her pocket and she pulled it out.

 **Ronald:** _3rd Degree burns on his hands and from chest to stomach is all they can see right now. Transferring him to St._ _Mungos. Healers say probably isnt going_ _home tonight._

Hermione headed down to the lobby of the apartment complex. She didn't care if Seamus and Ned were following her or not. They struggled to keep up as she rushed down the stairs.

The lobby of the apartment building was small, but was home to a desk, some mailboxes and a set of hearths which connected to the Floo Network. She put the duffel bag over her shoulder and grabbed a fist full of floo powder in her hand.

 

After taking a deep breath and giving the floo some direction she cast the powder down and felt herself being rushed through to the hospital.

She nearly fell over when she came to a stop at the the entrance of St. Mungo’s but quickly righted herself, standing tall and marching her way to the front desk.

“I'm looking for Harry James Potter,” she told the man behind the desk. He was young, probably fresh out of school.

“Let me check our record.” he started paging through files on his desk.

“No Harry Potter or Harry James Potter has been signed in yet, ma’am,” he informed her. “Was it emergency?”

“Yes. He's being transferred from the hospital wing at the Auror Academy.”

“Okay,” he nodded then shuffled through some things on the desk. “Are you family? Formality …” he explained, as he definitely recognised her. It was only a year ago that he’d seen her face plastered to pages in his History of Magic textbook.

“Yes,” she said, tapping her wand to the paper he provided to sign herself in.

“I’ll have someone show you to the emergency department.”

It was at this time that Seamus and Ned caught up to her.

“Only family can go into the emergency department-” the young boy started but was quickly cut off.

“Watch it, brat. This is auror business,” Ned snapped.

Hermione didn't have time to berate the auror for his attitude but shot the boy a sympathetic look. They were lead down a series of hallways by another healer, a tall, strong looking person with soft blue eyes.

“Through here,” they said, leading them through a large doorway. There were several rows of chairs between them and the healer’s station.

The emergency wing virtually empty, spare a few taken seats here and there. She made her way to the desk.

“I'm Hermione Granger, and I’m looking for Harry James Potter,”

The woman at the desk looked up at her.

“He was just brought in a few moments ago. They're tending to him now. Please wait with Auror Weasley and someone will come get you when they finish.”

Hermione turned around and scoured the room. It took her a second to spot him, but there was Ron, on the other end of the room. She recognised him by his fiery hair. He was seated in one of the waiting room chairs, his hand together with his head rested against him.

She approached. “Ron?” When she spoke he glanced up at her, his blue eyes rimmed with red. He sniffed and wiped his eyes,which immediately rose some red flags for her.

“You should have stayed back at the flat.”

She frowned and moved to sit down beside him. “What happened?” she started to rub soothing circles into his back with her palm. She had chosen to ignore his comment about her staying home.

Seamus didn't say anything, but he placed a hand on Ron’s shoulder.

“They-” he breathed. “Sorry,” he composed himself. “They think he has rebound damage but they aren't sure what the extent of the damage is.”

“He was in a duel?” Asked Hermione, her eyebrows raised.

“No, He did it to himself.” Ron shook his head.

“I don't understand?” Hermione spoke slowly.

“Not like … on purpose,” Ron interjected. “It's kinda rare, but it happened to one of my cousins once. To a smaller degree.” He rubbed his face and sat up straight. “Sometimes if a wizard tries to expel too much magic and their body can't expel it fast enough or direct it properly, it gets backed up and kind of … burns into your body I guess,” he struggled to explain. “I don't know exactly how to say it, but it's why your hands sometimes get a little sore if you mess up a spell a few times,” he explained.

“Oh yeah, that happened to my cousin Fergus once,” said Seamus. “He said it's nasty but quick,” he went on, trying to be reassuring. “He was able to go right back to doing things and it was gone in a few days, it was just on his hands.” He ran a hand through his hair. “So I'm sure Harry will be fine”

“How on Earth did all of that happen?” Hermione demanded.

“Professor Heartstone is dead,” he explained with difficulty. “I was dropping off my shadows’ progress reports when I found Harry with him; trying to save him. It was just like with the Fairborne case. Blood everywhere.” He sat up a little straighter in his chair and gave Hermione a few seconds to process that.

Hermione struggled to comprehend what she was hearing. It hadn’t even been very long since Alma was murdered and now Hearthstone? It didn't make sense. They didn't even work in the same branches of the Ministry. This once again raised the question of whether or not these attacks were personal.

“Are you able to talk me through it, Ron? What happened next?” Asked Hermione.

Seamus gave Ron’s shoulder what he hoped was a comforting squeeze. He knew how to take care of Hermione but he didn't have the foggiest idea of what Ron would need right now. Only Hermione and Harry would know that.

“I tried to get him to stop, but he was … I don't know. He was lost. He shot out a hex when I grabbed him and tried to pull him off. I had to call for help because all I managed to do was restrain him. The classes were off site today so the hall was empty. Which means they haven't the damnedest idea how long he was at it, the blood was … almost solid-like when I got there.” He looked paler than usual as he discussed the details of the scene. “Merlin’s beard. He is going to hate me,” said Ron, his head going back into his hands.

“Harry could never hate you,” replied Hermione. “Why would you think that?”

“You know how he is with this stuff. I made a decision for him.”

“What are you talking about?” Hermione was confused.

“I'm talking about when I let them sedate him.”

“Harry will understand,” Hermione tried to assure him. “This is different,”

“Yeah, mate,” Seamus started. “You didn't have a choice. He can't hold that against you.”

Ron didn't respond.

 

The next handful of hours trudged by in almost absolute silence. The only sound or conversation was Hermione asking around at the Healers’ Station for updates.

“Granger?” Called one of the healers after what felt like an eternity to everyone involved.

Hermione rose and went to meet the man. Ron didn't get up, something Hermione noticed straight off.

“Can we see Harry now?”

“I’m afraid not. He's awake now but he only wants to see a …” he glanced at his notes. “Auror Finnigan. He doesn’t want anyone else coming in,” he informed her. Hermione was confused by this but looked back to the group. Ron was still a mess, Seamus hovering and Ned near the entrance. She made her way over to them.

“He wants … _Seamus_ ,” Hermione looked confused as she spoke. Ron locked his fingers together and places them on the back of his head. _Harry hates me_ he thought hopelessly. _He really hates me_.

Seamus was just as confused as the rest of them. “Okay … I guess I'll go see what his deal is” joining the healer who had come to collect him.

“I’m Healer Rossi,” the man began as they walked. I’m in charge of his care while he’s with us. Harry suffered deep burns and other damage to his major organs. His external injuries are mainly burns on his hands, forearms and abdomen. He is asleep now, but the sedation has worn off.”

“Has he said much?”

“He did say something about an uncle Vernon when he was becoming more lucid. Is that someone we should contact? ”

“No. He's muggle and they're … estranged,” he settled on. Admittedly he didn't know much about the Dursleys. Just the occasional off-handed comment. However, he did know about the cupboard, but who didn't? He also knew that whatever happened between Harry and his blood-family had left many different kinds of scars. Harry didn't talk about it with Seamus, and Seamus didn't pry.

“Alright,” the healer nodded and opened the door to a room.

“Why aren't there any windows?” Asked Seamus. It was the first thing he noticed about the small room.

“There is one,” the healer pointed to a window. Seamus couldn't really see out of it though, it was too heavily reinforced by some type of metal cross pattern. “This is room is for patients who we fear are a danger to themselves or others,” he explained.

“He should be moved,” said Seamus.

“Why?”

“Because he’s Harry Potter ya gobshite! You know, the boy who went from living in a closet under a staircase to savour of the wizarding world? It might be a bad idea for him to wake up confused in a tiny room?” Seamus phrased his statements as sarcastic questions.

“He didn't request to be moved. He was well enough to sign a release that allowed us to speak to you before we gave him painkillers.” The healer elected to ignore Seamus’s slight hostility.

Seamus scoffed quietly and went to stand by Harry’s bedside. The hospital bed was tilted up slightly, allowing Harry to sit up somewhat comfortably. As Seamus drew closer he started to take in Harry’s appearance.  There were seemingly random bruises here and there, as well as blood on his arms and face. Seamus also noted that, though he wouldn’t make eye contact, Harry was most definitely awake.

“What are the bruises from?” Asked Seamus.

“They're from him thrashing while the other healers tried to restrain him,” said Rossi.  It was then that Seamus noticed the padded leather cuffs securing Harry’s wrists to the bed.

“And the blood?”

“It's not his own,”

“Okay.”

“Mr. Potter,” started the healer as Harry began to process the room more. “You have severe burns on your forearms and torso as well as considerable internal damage,” he explained. “However, your injuries are responding well to treatment. We’ll be able to release you after twenty-four hours.” He set his clipboard down on the table. Harry just nodded, not saying anything both by choice and because he was still groggy. “After that you'll need to take it easy for about three weeks.” As if just remembering something, he picked up the clipboard again and started to jot some things down. “The outer wounds are already fading,” he gave Harry a reassuring smile.

“Do you want your glasses?” Asked Seamus, unsure of what to say.

“I don't care,” replied Harry, mumbling quietly. Seamus stepped forward and took Harry’s glasses from the table and placed them on his face.

“There you go, now you can see my face.” He smiled a little and gently patted his shoulder.

“Who else is here?” Asked Harry.

“Ron’s been here the whole time and I arrived here with Hermione not too long after. When I left to come see you it was just us and Ned.”

“Okay,” said Harry.

“Ron really wants to see you.”

“I don't want to see him.”

“Is this about him letting them sedate you?”

“Yes.” He wasn't exactly lying, but he wasn't being entirely truthful either. He didn't want his friends looking at him like this.

“Figured, Ron’s beating himself up over that.”

Harry sighed, closing his eyes as he did.

“But I mean, if you want to shut out the two people who continue to follow you through Hell without even being asked and let them think you're dying that's fine by me, mate, not my business,” he said a bit bitterly.

“Tell them they can come in,” he gave in.

Seamus turned around and headed out of the room, down the hall.

Hermione was the first to notice him. She looked up at him and waited for him to say something. He didn't, as he wasn't exactly sure what to say. He just jerked his head in a way to indicate that they should follow him. Hermione stood, pulling Ron with her.

Eon followed, knots twisting up further in his stomach as he walked.

When they entered Harry’s room he could see that Hermione was holding onto Ron’s hand again. Harry was too emotionally tired to feel weird about it.

He didn't meet their eyes.

“I brought you some clothes,” said Hermione.

“Thanks,” Harry replied. “Is Professor Heartstone okay?”

“Harry … He was gone long before you found him. There was nothing you could have done, mate” Ron spoke up.

“Can you get them to take these things off?” Asked Harry. He strained slightly against the padded cuffs that held his wrists to the bed.

“Rossi,” Seamus turned and tapped on his shoulder. “Please take those things offa Harry,”

Rossi tapped his wand to Harry’s bed and the cuffs fell from Harry’s wrists before leaving.

“I still have some questions for the healer,” said Hermione, ducking out. She gave Seamus a look so he would follow.

“I know you're angry at me,” said Ron once he and Harry were alone.

“Oh really?” He asked sarcastically. “What gave that away?”

“I want you to look at this as if it was Hermione or me,” Ron started. “You were … You were really far gone, mate,” he tried to explain. “Nobody could figure out what was going on. There was so much blood, they didn't know if you were bleeding too,” Ron closed his eyes tightly. Remembering the events of the afternoon was taking a toll on his resolve once again. “Can you honestly tell me that you would look at Hermione or me like that, and just not let them do anything? Just let you possibly bleed out on the floor and _die_?” He demanded.

“Don't make me think about that,” Harry said quietly, refusing to meet his eye. “I have to think about that possibility every day as is.”

“Well I had to _actually look_ at it, Harry. I had to make that choice. I had to look at you, screaming and thrashing and fighting, not knowing what was wrong. I knew you were going to be mad at me, and you know part of me hates myself for it because I know better than _anyone_ that even though I was _possibly_ saving you, I was _definitely_ betraying your trust. I did this knowing that you were going to push me away like your doing right now. I still chose not to gamble with your life. So you can take ten _ruddy_ seconds and think about the fact that you know better than _anyone_ that I would never do something like this unless I felt like I had to,” Ron finished, getting a bit worked up himself. Harry didn't look at him and was silent for a few seconds before he turned and looked at him. Ron started at the floor but Harry could see how red his eyes were. “There were no other options mate,” he said softly, his voice breaking. “And if I hadn't done it, it really sounds like we wouldn't be having this conversation right now.”

Harry turned cold. “Maybe letting me die would have been a better option! I don't want to talk to you right now, Ron. Get. Out. Call Ginny, get me a Weasley who can actually help me with something. Percy’s the smart one, maybe he can find a loophole that will let me leave this damn hospital.”

Ron visibly tensed. Closing his eyes tightly, he took in a shaky breath as he realised something.

“I know what you're playing at.” he spoke plainly.

“Are you sure? You never were the brightest bulb in the bunch.” he quipped.

“I _invented_ the game you're playing, mate.” Ron’s lips formed a hard line and he came to seat himself beside Harry.

“I'm not playing anything.” he lied poorly.

The corner of Ron’s mouth turned up slightly, forming what was just the hint of a smile.

“You can't get away from me psychically so you're going to say whatever you can to make me leave. Here’s the thing, mate. You can be mad at me if you want, but I'm not going anywhere. Let's leave this act in the past where it belongs, alright?”

Harry was silent for several minutes. “I thought I would eventually become numb to watching people die.” Said Harry, finally. “But it just gets worse every time. I feel like I can't protect anyone I care about.”

“Me too.”

“Why are you still sitting here?” Asked Harry.

“I’ve followed you through worse.”

“This is different.”

“Not really. You didn't give up on me when I was too drunk to get out of bed. Why would I ditch you because you shouted at me a little?”

“Not going to get rid of you, am I?”

“Not a chance, mate.”

* * *

When they finally got Harry home, he headed directly to his room. Ron followed, standing with one hand up on the door frame as he leaned into the room slightly. Harry turned to face him, and for a moment they stood close together, both waiting for the other to speak.

“Boys, I'm ordering Chinese!” Hermione called from the kitchen. “What do you want?” Hermione popped her head down the hall after she spoke. However, she stepped back into the kitchen immediately when she saw Ron and Harry seemed to be having a moment.

“Nothing for me, Hermione! I'm not hungry.” Harry called, not taking his eyes off Ron.

Ron turned his head slightly towards the hallway. “I'll eat anything, you know me. Get some pot stickers for Harry though,” Ron’s voice lowered as he turned his head back to look at Harry. “Do you need anything?”

He wasn't talking about food anymore.

“No.”

“Well … I. _You know_ ,” he managed, though it wasn't what he wanted to say.

“I know.” The two locked eyes for a moment.

  
If they were being honest, they didn't really _need_ to say anything. They never really did. Ron and Harry worked. In battle and in life, they were a team. They liked how things were. They were safe. Well, safe enough. They didn't want to risk crossing a line they couldn't come back from, even if their hearts wanted otherwise.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, thanks for all the love, folks! I'm having a blast with this fic. There will another update before the month is over. (:

When Hermione finished ordering Harry had shut the door to his room. Ron had gone to change clean up a bit and start a bath for Harry, but soon returned and knocked on Harry’s door. “I ran a bath for you. Figured you'd want to clean up a bit. It's got a cool water, because …yeah,” he called through the door. “I'm going to go change but uh--grab me if you need anything.” He waited a few seconds for any response from Harry. When he didn't get one he disappeared into his room.

Once he was entirely sure that Ron was gone, Harry made his way down the hall. He hated having to pass Ron’s room in order to get there. He was relieved when he saw Ron’s door was closed, so Ron wouldn't see him walk by, and possibly start another conversation.

He entered the bathroom and quickly, locking the door behind him. Next he ditched his clothes and pulled off his bandages. A quick, wandless _diffindo_ did the trick just fine. He got into the bath, the coolness soothing his aching skin. Bubbles rose the the surface as he sunk deeper into the water. He was still trying to make himself feel fully comfortable underwater after the Triwizard Tournament and the battle against Infiri his sixth year.

When they finally sat down for dinner, Harry spoke.

“Ron, do you know where Bill is?” He shoved a potsticker into his mouth.

“You mean my brother?” Asked Ron.

“No, the _other_ Bill we know.” He teased.

“Um… I think he’s in Romania at the moment with Charlie,” he took a big bite of chow mein before continuing. “Well, I mean he's not staying with him but he's working in the country. Why?” his words muffled around the noodles.

“I think it's kinda neat that he travels all over,” he shrugged. “That would be exciting,” he lied.

“Not rea-lly,” he mumbled around the food in his mouth. He swallowed before continuing. “He doesn't see Victoire, Louis and Dominique as much as he wants,” he paused. “Speaking of, Dom drew you a picture,” he said, rising from his seat and slipping down the hall. When he returned, he held out a piece of folded craft paper to Harry. “I kept forgetting to give it to you,” he admitted, handing it to Harry who unfolded it.

“Oh really?” He asked, smiling a little as he opened it. On the paper was a stick figure with a red spot on its head and a big black scribble that took up half the page. He laughed softly. “She really captures me,” he said, standing and making his way to the fridge to stick it on with a magnet. Harry looked at it for a moment and admittedly felt a little sad. A family had been something he thought about on more than one occasion; he loved his nieces and nephews, but he wanted kids of his own.

When they finished eating Harry retired to his room and sat down at his desk before starting to look for his stationary set.

 

_William Weasley,_

_I was informed by Ron that you were currently in Romania. When you receive this please contact me via the floo in my office at the Ministry. Please keep this between us. You can reach me anytime between 9AM and 7PM London time._

_\- Harry Potter_

 

Ron knocked on the door after a bit.

“You still with us, mate?”

Harry sealed the letter and quickly shoved it into a book on his desk.

“Yeah, I'm fine Ron … Thanks.”

* * *

The next day Harry woke up later than he had meant to. Part of him knew that it was because Ron hadn’t come into his room.

When he made his way out into the kitchen he saw Ron was already awake, sitting at the kitchen table, staring silently into his coffee mug.

Harry came and sat down beside him.

“What's wrong?”

“I had a rough night,” he shrugged his shoulders.

“Me too,” related Harry, putting an arm around Ron’s shoulders. “You could have come down the hall,” he stood and started to make some eggs.

“I'm not going to lay on you when you're all burnt up.”

“You know I don't care.” Harry had built up a certain pain tolerance; after all, once you've experienced the Cruciatus Curse most pain pales in comparison.

“I know you don't,” Ron moved to sit at the breakfast bar. “But I'm not about to send your arse back to the St. Mungos.”

Harry felt himself staring to drift but he tried to fight it. His eggs started to burn and he put them on a plate, leaving the stove on as he went to sit at the table in silence.

Hermione came out when she smelled the smoke.

“Ugh who burnt something!” she complained and turned off the stove. She turned to the breakfast bar and saw what Harry was eating. “Harry.” She said seriously, taking the plate. “You're eating burnt eggs,” she told him.

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to burn them,” he apologised. He then sighed and closed his eyes tightly. “I got a little lost.”

“Ron why didn't you-” she turned to Ron who was asleep face down in his overturned cup of coffee. She sighed and started to clean up the mess.

“Sorry.” Said Harry again, rubbing his face. Hermione dumped the burnt eggs in the trash and made him a fresh batch. She didn't know what else to do. She tried to remember when he stopped talking to her about things but came up empty.

“Boys. We have to go to the Burrow at eleven, right?”

“Yes,” replied Harry. As he stood up there was a knock at the door.

“Ugh!” Hermione threw her arms up in the air. “One more thing,” she sighed.

“Harry, get Ron to bed. You're both going to sleep for an hour and then we’re leaving.” Harry began to protest, but she shot him a look that indicated that she was _not_ asking and he quietly complied.

Hermione made her way to the door and looked through the peephole. A man with a name tag stood at the door. She opened it.

“Can I help you?”

“Are you Hermione Granger?” He asked her, taking a clipboard from under his arm. “Sorry, I know who you are but it's policy that I ask,” he sounded American, which was one of the first things Hermione noticed about him.

“State your business,” she instructed, one hand on her wand in her back pocket.

“I’m from the post office, I've got a delivery from a….” he glanced at his clipboard. “Dean Thomas. I'm meant to give it to Hermione Granger. When we get packages that are too large, heavy or fragile for the owls we gotta do it ourselves,” he informed her.

“Oh.” She replied. “Alright, that's me… Do I sign?”

“Just tap your wand here,” he instructed, pointing a spot on the clipboard. “I gotta tell ya, I had no idea security would be this strict,” he laughed. “Two aurors stopped me on my way up here!”

“I'm sorry for the trouble.” she apologised, admittedly a little embarrassed.

“No problem ma’am, was just making conversation,” he shrugged. “Can I carry it in for you or will the aurors get me?” He asked with a laugh.

“I'm sure it'll be fine, could you come set it on the table right here?” She asked, jabbing a thumb to the right of her. He lifted a large crate from his dolly and carried it into the flat, placing it on the dining area table across from the kitchen area.

“So, you're American?” She asked, making light conversation.

“Yep. I'm from Minnesota -- uh -- That’s in the midwest.”

“Oh I know where that is. Heard you guys get lots of snow.”

“Like you wouldn't believe.” The man set the crate down carefully. “Well, we’re all set here. Have a good day ma’am.” he said before leaving.

Hermione slid the lid off the crate and set it carefully aside. Inside, on top of bed of hay-like packing material sat a letter with a broken seal. She figured the aurors had inspected it. She pulled that out first.

 

_Hermione,_

_I don't know exactly what's going on. Seamus isn't allowed to tell me much, but it seems like all of you are having a hard time over there. I packed up a few things and made you guys a few potions. Everything is labelled. Hope it helps, and stay hydrated._

_-Dean x_

 

Hermione smiled a little and moved some of the packing material. She found a smaller box with her name on it, which she opened. Packed neatly inside Hermione could see a dreamless sleep potion, some hollywhick extract, which was helpful for anxiety, a spray bottle of lavender infused sleep aid and a potion that acted like a multivitamin.

Hermione grabbed the other two kits and headed to Harry’s room. She stopped at the door and knocked softly. When he didn't answer she assumed he was asleep and crept  inside. To her surprise, when she glanced at his bed, it was empty. She set the box on his nightstand before heading down the hall, passing her bedroom and knocking on Ron’s door.

Again, there was no answer so she slipped inside. Ron’s room looked like a garbage dump. There were dirty clothes everywhere and Hermione had to step over an old pizza box from who knows when to get to his nightstand. _Not to self_ , she thought, _never make fun of Harry for being a neat freak ever again_. She glanced at his bed where she found them both.

Ron was asleep on his stomach, with one arm draped around Harry who slept in a very tight fetal position. His hand just beside the other man’s which made Hermione wonder if he'd fallen asleep holding Harry’s hand. The thought made herself feel a bit lonely if she was being honest, but glad all the same. Hermione turned and pulled the blanket up a bit before leaving to let them rest.

Soon after, Harry made his way into the living room and sat on the couch. He looked much better after getting some rest.

“Harry,” Hermione started. “What's going on with you and Ron?”

He raised his eyebrows at her.

“What do you mean, Hermione?”

“You guys are really close lately. Literally.”

“It's not like _that_.” Harry insisted, even though everyone in that flat knew it was a lie.

“What is it like then?”

“You wouldn't understand, Hermione.”

“Try me,” she turned to face him. “I don't want you to feel like you need to hide things from me.”

“I don't have a family like you do, Hermione.”

“So, you're gay because you don't have a family?” Hermione asked, raising her eyebrows. “I'll admit, this isn't a subject I'm well versed in but I don't think that's how-”

Harry groaned.

“I am _not_ gay,” he lied. “I am alone. When you and Ron have a bad day, you can call your mothers and cry about it,” he ran a hand though his untidy hair. “I don't have that. I have Ron.”

“Oh,” Hermione got quiet.

“Ron and I had our fights in the past but at the end of the day, he gets me in ways other other’s just don't. When we were in school we used to talk until we fell asleep. There isn’t anything we haven't talked about.”

“Even things I don't know?”

“Only a few things…” he trailed off, smiling softly. “And it's probably better that you don't know.” Harry thought about the things Hermione didn't know, like Ron’s night terrors which he managed to keep from her with silencing charms, the moments before Harry walked to what he had thought was death, what death felt like, and a few other things that he felt better that she didn't know. He reasoned with himself that it was fine as long as he never lied to Hermione, and he didn't, most of the time anyways. Her pressing about his relationship with Ron was what was making him slip up now.

Harry also wasn't exactly sure how coming out as gay at this point would really matter. The last thing he needed was the tabloids gripping at all the men he ever talked to on top of everything else.

“Okay,” she responded, clearly not happy, but indicating that she would accept his answers for now. “Anyways, Dean sent us care packages. Yours is in your roo--”

Suddenly, Ron shouted gibberish from his room, his voice raspy and desperate. Harry and Hermione looked at each other for a moment before Hermione rushed to Ron’s room, too fast for Harry to stop her. He let out a wordless scream of desperation as she entered. He laid in the middle of his bed, hair slicked to his forehead. Hermione shook his shoulder.

“Ron, Ron wake up,” Hermione shook his shoulder again.

“We have to...!” His voice was lost, but he groaned in his sleep. Ron woke and looked up at her for a second. When he gathered himself he blinked, shaking his head as he sat up.

“Are we leaving?” Ron asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he tried to calm himself. His heart thrashed against his chest so roughly that he wondered if Hermione could hear it.

“You were yelling.” Hermione carefully reached out a hand and let it rest on his arm.

“Nah,” he shook his head in denial. “I'm going to shower then we can leave,” He told her and got up, heading into the bathroom.

Harry dropped his head into his hand at Ron’s response.

A frown pulled at the edges of Hermione’s mouth as she watched him leave. That was probably something they would argue about later.

Harry made his way down the hall and rapped his knuckles on the door.

“Ron can I talk to you?”

“You better hurry up because I'm half naked.”

“Are you wearing pants?”

“For about the next fifteen se--”

Harry pushed the door open and shut it behind him. Ron stood in the middle of it, his shirt discarded on the floor.

Flourishes of angry purples had bloomed under his pale skin, probably making them appear worse than they were, but Harry couldn't be sure. Colour reached around his abdomen like some sort of twisted inkblot.

“What happened to you?”

Ron scraped at the small amount of dried blood on his stomach that he figured be missed when cleaning up the previous night.

“Oh, this? It's not my blood.”

“You know that's not what I mean, mate.”

“You don't remember?”

“Should I?” Harry reached out and with just the very tips of his fingers he grazed the angry patterns with a feather light touch.

Ron shrugged his shoulders. “Doesn't matter that much. I grabbed you and you didn't realise it was me and shot out a hex. It's not nearly as bad as it looks, and that's coming from me.” He gave an amused laugh, remembering his tendency to exaggerate injuries.

“I don't even remember that. I'm sorry.” His hand moved upwards to rest on his shoulder, never leaving Ron’s skin.

Ron swallowed, his adam's apple bobbing in his throat. “Uh,” he looked away from his friend as his face flushed a little. Ron then caught Harry’s hand in a clumsy and awkward motion, his thumb in Harry’s palm, breaking the contact with his bare shoulder. “You wanted to say something? I need to shower.”

Harry watched it travel down to his chest and at any other time he probably would have teased him about it. He dropped slid his hand from Ron’s quickly and tried to ignore the warmth in his chest.

“Yeah. Look mate, I think it's about time you talked to Hermione about these nightmares. I think she could provide some closure for you.”

“Closure.” he snorted. “Right. You sound like that therapist lady Hermione made us talk to right after the war.”

“Ron--”

“You know, I actually have to be naked to shower.” Ron cut him off.

Harry took the hint and left.

* * *

Harry stopped his friends just outside of the burrow.

“Could we not mention any of last night's events to Molly?”

“Well, you're not going to be lugging boxes around,” said Hermione in a serious tone.

“I'll watch the kids or something, just don't say anything to Molly. You know how she gets.”

“We’re home, Mum!” Ron called into the Burrow, Harry and Hermione following behind him,all three brushing the snow from their coats.

“Oh good!” Called a voice from the kitchen. “Can one of you go get Victoire? I swear I turn my back for five seconds and that girl is dragging the gnomes out of their burrows. I'm trying to get Dom to eat all of her peas.”

“Uncle Ron!” Squealed a tiny voice.

Ron laughed and headed through to the kitchen where Dom was seated up on her booster seat.

“Oh good, she's happy to see you. Maybe you can get her to eat.”

Molly sounded relieved.

“Dom, if you don't eat all your peas Victorie will feed you to the gnomes.” Ron crossed his arms.

“You're being silly! She won't do that!” the girl giggled.

Ron lifted the girl from the seat and blew a raspberry on her stomach, making her squeak. “Okay Dom, today I'm going to teach you how to sneak yucky veggies out to the gnomes.”

“Ronald,” Molly cautioned.

“Oh come on Mum, I’m only joking!” He grinned, then set Dom back down in her seat. “If you eat all of your peas, you can have half of a chocolate frog.”

“Okay!”

Harry went to pull his jacket back on but was stopped by Hermione.

“ _You_ ,” she began pointedly, “are not going back outside. Go find Louis, I'll get Victorie.” She went through to the back garden.

Hermione was relieved to find that the oldest of Bill’s children was still within the stony fence. It hadn't taken her long to spot the dark blue winter coat in the snow covered yard. “Victorie, sweetie, Gran needs you to come inside now, and the gnomes stay outside.”

“But they're like little babies! I love them!” She turned to Hermione, displaying a small potato-faced creature struggling in her “loving” embrace.

“Hagrid is going to love you,” Hermione laughed softly. “He has to go back to his family, love. Be careful so it doesn't bite you.”

“Okay,” the girl sighed and released the gnome, which ran off as quickly as it could on its stubby legs.

“Is it just you here, Aunt ‘Mione?” Victorie fell into step beside her.

“Uncle Ron and Uncle Harry are here with me. Your gran needs us to help her go through some boxes in the attic.”

“That sounds really boring.” She wrinkled her nose.

“It is very boring. Maybe you and Dom can go see what Harry and your brother are doing.”

In the house, Harry had finally located Louis. Louis sat by himself at a small play table in Bill’s old bedroom.

“Hey Lou, what are you up to in here?” he asked, then saw the boy was pouring tea for the plush toys he and Hermione has given him for his birthday. A Batman plush from Hermione, and a Wolverine plush from Harry. “Having a tea party with your Superfriends?”

“Everyone likes tea.”

“That is true,” Harry chuckled and gently sat himself on one of the tiny chairs.

Harry glanced around the room.It was probably the only room at the Burrow that he had never really spent much time in. It hadn't changed much since Bill and Charlie had shared it. On one side of the room Weird Sisters posters still hung on the walls and the beds still had Quidditch team spreads. It occurred to him that he didn't know the oldest brothers very well, but he wasn't surprised by this. The boys were older and hadn't spent much time at The Burrow, he was fairly sure that he could count on one hand the number of actual conversations he’d had with Charlie.

“Do you have a wife?” The little boy asked, surprising Harry a bit.

“I don't. Do you?” he asked humorously.

“Yes.”

“Who's your wife?”

“Wonder Woman!” he grinned.

Harry struggled to repress a laugh. “Congratulations.”

Harry and Hermione had gotten the kids into comic books, but hadn't expected Louis to like than as much as he had, he thought they would be too fast paced for him. Louis liked more laid back activities like reading books and photography.

Downstairs Dom was finishing her vegetables when Hermione returned with Victoire.

“Why are the kids here?” Ron asked his mother.

“Fleur had to run into work but she'll be home by five.”

“Alright. Harry can sit with ‘em while Hermione and I help you out,” Ron suggested, picking his niece up again when she finished eating. “How does that sound, do you want to go play with your uncle Harry and your siblings?”

“Yes!” she giggled and Ron brought her upstairs.

* * *

A bit later, as Ron up in the attic, retrieving another box and Hermione was folding an old quilt by hand, she felt a tug on her sweater.

“Yes Louis?” she glanced down at the boy.

“Uncle Harry is being weird.” He informed her very seriously.

“Uncle Harry likes to be sarcastic, he's only kidding.” She tried to assure him. “Harry, we talked about this, the kids don't always know when you're joking.” Hermione called up the stairs.

“No Aunt Mione! He is being _weird_ ,” he crossed his arms, seeming a bit frustrated with being unable to explain the situation to Hermione.

“Okay, what's the matter?”

“He fell down.”

She paled. “What do you mean he fell down?”

“We were running around and he fell. Dom jumped on him and he won't get up.”

Hermione dropped the quilt and rushed up the stairs.

To her surprise she found Harry seated up in a chair with Dom on his lap.

“Are you okay Harry?” she asked.

“I'm fine.” he smiled at her, but winced a bit.

Hermione’s hands went to her hips. “Mmhmm, sure.” She cocked her head slightly and stared him down.

“... okay I got a little dizzy but I'm fine!” he insisted.

“What's the problem?” asked Ron, who had been walking past with a box.

“Harry fell down and couldn't get up.” She said without skipping a beat, not taking her eyes from Harry’s face.

Harry shot her a look.

Ron frowned. “I can take you home. Tell Mum we had a case or something.”

“I'm great guys really. I'm at a tea party with Wolverine _and_ Batman. How many blokes get to say that?” he grinned, then looked at the kids. “I'm sorry if I scared you guys, I'm not feeling very well but everything’s alright.”

“Harry, dear! Come down here a second please!” Molly called from the bottom of the stairs.

Harry stood from the table, setting Dominique in the chair. “Okay, sweetie how about you pour Ron some tea?” he suggested as he made his way towards the door. He swayed slightly and gripped the door.

Ron sighed deeply and dropped the box he was holding with a small thump. He had no qualms about dropping it on the floor. He snaked an arm around Harry to help steady him.

Harry leaned heavily on him for a moment, his face partially pressed into Ron’s shoulder. When Harry felt steadier he pulled away from the other man slightly and headed downstairs to find Molly, who was holding up a deep sea green sweater.

“It's one of the ones I made. I think it was Percy’s before he moved out or Ron’s just before his growth spurt. I don't know, but it wouldn't fit any of the boys now but it looks to be your size!” She held it up to Harry, pressing it to his shoulders. “Just as I expected, _perfectly_ your size!” Molly had a habit of giving Harry hand-me-downs. They didn't say it outloud, but it made Harry feel more like part of the family.

“Sure, Molly. Thanks.” He smiled, and as much as he appreciated her thinking of him even now we he was grown he hoped she wouldn't go too overboard like last time when she somehow decided that instead of throwing away Percy’s hand-me-downs she gave them all to Harry.

She folded it up and sat it on the table. “Now,” she turned to face him again, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “Are you going to tell me what's going on? I have ears everywhere.”

“I got injured at work but really, it wasn't that bad.” Harry crossed his arms, putting on a smile.

“It _was_ that bad.” Hermione chimed in, she and Ron following Harry into the room. “He's not even supposed to be on his feet for another week, but we all know how thick he is.”

“Thanks Hermione.” Harry quipped.

“Always happy to help.” She shot him an obnoxiously fake smile.

“Go sit in the living room,” Molly moved her hands in a shooing motion and rushed him out of the dining room.

Harry went and sat on the tiny sofa in The Burrow’s living room. “I'm fine Molly, really.”

“What happened?” she demanded, leaning over Harry slightly with her hands on her hips.

“It was just some work stuff.”

“Third degree magical burns pretty much everywhere,” said Ron.

“ _Thanks_ Ron.”

“I’m just looking out for you, mate. ‘Can't lie to her when she's looking at you like that, it's how you die.”

“Hermione please make sure Harry stays put while Ron and I go finish up dinner. _You_ ,” she pointed at Harry, “don’t move from this spot. Come on dear,” she pulled Ron behind her as they left.

Soon Fleur came to pick up the kids. When it was just the trio and Molly and dinner was ready they all sat down to eat.

“So, I’m sure you guys heard that George and Angelina are expecting a baby,” said Hermione casually, hoping to pull the topic away from Harry so he wasn’t too smothered.

“Oh yes!” Molly grinned. “The poor girl is so nervous! They just had their first a appointment with the healer.”

“That's exciting!” Hermione smiled.

“All my babies are growing up and having babies, that just leaves these boys and Ginny,” she commented, glancing at Ron. “Have you met any nice girls in your department?”

“No Mum, no special girls in my life.” he replied coolly.

Harry looked away from Ron’s pointed gaze. Harry chose to assume he was imagining the stress Ron put on ‘girls’ because Molly hadn't even blinked at it.

“How about you, Harry?” Molly asked.

"Huh?”

“Any nice girls in your department?”

“Oh, yeah, but you know me. I'm married to the job.”

“I have a date coming up,” said Hermione, unable to deal with the air in the room. Between the Ron and Harry tension and the awkwardness that came from how oblivious Molly seemed to be, she could hardly breathe.

“You never go out,” Ron laughed, surprised. “Who do you have a date with?”

“Oh, he's just a guy I took college classes with. His name is Elias. We both have a very large families, so the holidays coming up have us all booked up right now, but we’re going to get together for dinner next month.”

Ron mouthed a _thank you_ at Hermione and the boys allowed her to tell Molly all about Elias from her muggle college classes.

By the time they arrived home Molly had shoved almost an entire box of old sweaters and shirts at Harry. He went right to his room to put him away.

“Do you even have the room for those?” Hermione asked.

“We’ll find out I guess.”

* * *

Two days passed and Harry got up, heading out into the kitchen.

“I really can't stop you from going into work today?” asked Ron as he took a sip of his chocolate milk.

“You should know better than to even ask if we’re being honest.” Harry said dryly.

“I could stay home with you. It's just paperwork today. We have no leads on the Alma case and can't investigate further yet,” he sighed and glanced over at Harry.

Harry tried very hard not to think about the _many_ pros of skipping work with Ron, as he began to cook breakfast for himself. “You don't have to do that. I'll just be doing paperwork too, Ron. Nothing too strenuous.”

“Was that jumper in the the box Mum gave you?”

“Yeah, it was” he looked down at the sweater he wore. It was soft under his fingers and had a broomstick knitted into it. It was a little large on him, but he didn't mind.

“It was mine,” he mused. “Mum made it for my birthday when we were like fifteen.”

“Oh, do you want it?”

“I think it suits you. I was mostly just taking the piss that you're tiny,” he took a sip of his chocolate milk with a smirk.

“Oh we’re on this again. Just because you're a skyscraper it doesn't make me short. You've only go like three inches on me in that area,” he rolled his eyes. “Also I can't take anything a grown man drinking chocolate milk says seriously.”

“I have three inches on you in _every_ area, mate. No need to get your knickers in a twist,” his lips curled up into a smirk.

“Low blow, Weasley, low blow.” Harry feigned offence.

It was then that Hermione not so discreetly cleared her throat. The boys looked over to see Hermione standing in the doorway.

“Mornin’.” Ron nodded to Hermione. “Well that's my cue to leave for the office. I've got some stuff to deal with for this shadowing thing.” He turned to leave but then stopped, looking back at Harry. “The jumper suits you,” he said again before leaving.

“What was that about?” asked Hermione.

“Oh, Ron reckons this jumper used to be his,” Harry shrugged and put his eggs onto a plate.

“Is it his?”

Harry gripped the jumper just on the middle of his breastbone and pulled it up to meet his nose and inhaled slightly. “Yeah, it's Ron’s.” he confirmed without a shadow of doubt.

“How can you tell?” Hermione asked innocently.

“Well, y’know it’s got that kinda woodsy and cinnamon Burrow smell plus with what Ron smells like,” he shrugged.

“I don't know what Ron _personally_ smells like,” she mused.

“No?”

Hermione grabbed herself a drinkable yogurt breakfast drink from the fridge. “Well, I've never had my face in his neck.” The words came out without skipping a beat.

A moment passed without either of them speaking.

“You have an appointment with the healers today at 3 p.m.,” she reminded him, trying to change the subject. “You better not miss it.”

“Yes _mum_ ,” he responded cooly, and rolled his eyes at her.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So ... I'm really late with this chapter, whoops. Also going to go back and re-edit these chapters.

When Harry got to work, his shadow, a young man named Ben, sat in a chair in the office working on a paper for class. Almost immediately, a call attempted to come through on the floo.

“Ben, would you mind running these to Auror Weasley?” He asked, handing him a stack of papers. “I'm not really supposed to be running around.”

“Um … sure,” He disappeared out of the office. Ben was a bit naive but he could tell when someone was trying to get rid of him.

Harry answered the floo and it was Bill, much to his relief.

“Hi Harry, your letter sounded urgent. I'm sorry it took me so long to call you. The owl had to be redirected because I had already left Romania…” he trialled off. “Anyways, how can I help you?”

“Is there anytime I can arrange a meeting with you? In person.”

“Um. Sure,” he sounded surprised. “I'll be home soon for the week of Christmas or you can meet me in Australia in January if you're willing to travel.”

“It shouldn't take very long. Could I just steal you for a couple minutes to the Burrow during the holiday?”

“Sure. That works fine for me. Is everything okay?”

“I don't know yet. But this is highly classified, so I do need to ask that you keep this under wraps. ”

“Alright. That works fine then. I'll see you at Christmas.”

They ended their call and Harry resumed his work.

“I'm making a sort of house-call today,” said Harry once Ben had returned. “You're welcome to join me if you’d like. We’re picking up some dark magic artifacts to be destroyed.” He scribbled something down on the document on his desk. “If you don't feel comfortable with that yet though, please don't push yourself.” Harry over the years had taken care in keeping the younger aurors and students off the front lines.

Ben blinked. He’d never gotten to do field work before, of any kind.

“Um. Yes Auror Potter, I can do that.” He nodded. Ben was a tall, thin boy with long dark hair that fell just past his ears. He made Harry think of a young Sirius, but he definitely had a more reserved personality. He was shy, but Harry didn't mind the quiet.

* * *

They arrived at the manor around noon and Harry rang the bell.

“Please remember that you represent not only the Academy, but the Ministry as well when you're with me,” Harry told the boy seriously, assigning him his first real order.

A female house elf answered the door. She was smaller than your average house elf and wore a youth t-shirt, which was still a bit large for her, in a light shade of pink.

“Do you have business with Master Malfoy?” she asked.

Harry raised his eyebrows and Draco came into view.

The question made Ben’s blood run cold, and he froze when Draco appeared. He knew that name, everyone did. He closed his eyes as he was unpleasantly reminded of the horrors he’d read about this manor in his auror text books.

“Sorry. At Hermione’s request I keep telling her she can leave … but she just …  keeps working. I gave her clothes and everything … Hermione’s having some Elvish welfare come get her.”

Ben stood tall but his hands were shaking. He quickly shoved them behind his back to hide them.

“Auror Potter, and uh … who’s the kid?” Draco beckoned for them to come in with his hand.

All the blood from Ben’s face drained and Harry noticed. He patted the boy’s shoulder.

“This is my shadow. His name is Ben. Ben this is Draco Mal-”

“I know who he is.”

“Welcome, Ben,” said Draco, moving to the side to allow them to enter.

Harry took a few steps in but Ben was still frozen in place, unable to move.

“Ben, you're perfectly safe with me, come along.” Harry often wondered why Ben applied to the Academy in the first place. This didn't really seem to be the right branch for him.

The boy reluctantly followed him inside.

“So, where is this uh _chest of doom_?” Harry asked, joking with a slight smile.

“It's through here. Would you like some tea?” Draco asked, remembering the hosting lessons he was forced through as a child. It felt a bit weird using them, particularly on his old schoolmate, particularly on _Harry Potter_ of all people. Usually the extent of his visitors was Hermione when she came by to discuss his progress reintegrating into Wizarding society.

“Draco?” Narcissa called down as she appeared the stairs just ahead of them. “Who's at the door?”

“It’s Potter, mother. He's come to dispose of that old trunk.”

“Oh Good! Did you offer him tea?”

“Hello Mrs. Malfoy,” Harry waved.

Narcissa came down the stairs when she noticed the boy beside him, wearing a uniform she didn't recognize.

Harry paused. He hadn't seen her since the day in the woods.

“Oh my, you're all grown up.”

“It's good to see you too Mrs. Malfoy.”

“This isn't your son, is it?” She looked at Ben.

Harry laughed.

“No, ma’am,” He shook his head. It felt more than a little strange to be so casual with the Malfoys, even after all the progress Draco had made with his probation and then his job as a healer. “This is Ben. He's a student at the Academy who will be shadowing me today.”

“Oh,” she smiled. “Well. Good luck with your studies young man, and Harry dear, call me Narcissa.” She went back upstairs then.

“So, the chest?” Asked Harry.

Draco gestured to a chest near the base of the stairs. It was large with a curved lid, and only stood out for the several belts holding it closed.

“I honestly don't care what happens to the things inside. Destroy them, study them. I just want them out of here and where no one can _use_ them.”

“I'll make sure these things never fall into the wrong hands.” He assured him, tapping his wand onto the chest, causing it to levitate and hover a few inches off the ground.

“You look a bit pale.”

“Draco, I was _born_ pale,” he informed Draco sarcastically.

“Not _you_ ,” Said Draco, who was looking at Harry’s shadow.

“Me? I'm fine,” insisted Ben, standing up straighter.

“Yeah well. If you start getting sick, go to Mungo’s and ask for me. I'll get you fixed up.”

“I would rather die.”

Harry glanced at the boy, mild surprise painted on his face, Draco however remained unfazed.

“ _Ben._ ” Harry said in a serious tone. “Remember what I told you, you represent all of us.” He scolded him before turning to Draco. “I'm sorry. I'll be seeing you.”

“I understand, don't be scolding him over me.” Draco dismissed the situation with a wave of his hand and Harry and Ben left.

* * *

“I thought the Malfoys were death eaters?” Back in Harry’s office Ben finally spoke again.

“They were.”

“Why are you friends with them? I thought we were the good guys.”

“Well … I'm not really _friends_ with them.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Draco wants to redeem himself, so I'm letting him. He's already been through the legal system and served his time.” Harry set the chest down beside his desk.

“But he was a Death Eater,” Ben repeated.

“He was a _child_.”

The two stood quietly for a moment, both trying to decide what to say next.

“It took me a long time to learn this, but the world isn't always black and white, Ben.”

“We’re supposed to give the Death Eaters to the Dementors! Not let them walk around with the rest of us.”

“If this is really how you feel, then I think you need to re-evaluate your decision to join the Academy. There is a legal system, and it is our job to work within it. If you want to be a vigilante, I suggest you drop out.”

“They aren't like _us_.”

“For someone who hates Death Eaters, you sure sound like one, mate,” Harry crossed his arms. “Draco has been extremely forthcoming with Death Eater information. He served his time and then dedicated his life to helping people as a healer. It doesn't erase what he did, but he's doing his best to move forward. We have to let him move forward.”

“I thought-”

“I don't want to hear anymore,” he gave the boy a sad look as he spoke. It was obvious to him that this boy must have been touched by the War, but he couldn't pry about it just then, not when Ben was on the defensive.

“Who are all those kids?” Ben asked, pointing to the photos on Harry’s desk, avoiding the issue. “They aren't yours?”

Harry turned one photo around of a young girl with long blonde hair holding hands with a much younger girl who had ginger hair; they laughed and waved to the camera. “Victoire and Dominique Weasley,” he started. “She'll be seven years old soon, and her sister is three. They have a brother named Louis. But he hates pictures, he prefers being on the other side of the camera.” Harry smiled. “They’re technically related to Auror Weasley but they call me an uncle too. Then this,” he turned over another photo, one of a brand new baby, barely a few months old. “This is Auror Taylor’s new baby girl, Deidre. You'll meet Auror Taylor eventually.”

“What about the blue haired boy?”

“Ah … That's Teddy.” He turned around a photo of a nine year old. In the corner of the frame was a photo of himself, holding the same boy when he was much younger. “He’s my godson. He lost his parents in the Battle of Hogwarts.”

“Why do you keep all their pictures on your desk?”

“I keep them here to remind me why I do what I do,” he put all the photos back where they were. “I want them to grow up without the fears I grew up with. I think that's enough for today. You can go home.”

Back at the flat, it was Hermione’s day off. She sat on the sofa reading a book while Mag stood by the door.

“Isn't one other auror arriving?”

“Yes, Auror Taylor is on his way.”

“Oh, I’ve heard he's a sweetheart. I'm glad,” she smiled. Seamus and Dean had left to see Seamus’s parents, and this was Ned’s week off. He and Ned were to be replaced by Mag and Taylor it would seem.

“I've never met him,” Auror Ames admitted.

There was a knock on the door and Hermione stood to answer it. As she opened the door,  something didn't feel right.

She took in the sight of the man at the door, tall with sandy hair.

“Auror Taylor. Please come in,” she stepped aside and allowed the man to enter.

“Ms. Granger,” he nodded politely.

“How is Jennifer? She must be due any day now.”

“She certainly is. I'm looking forward to the end of the midnight brownie runs,” he chuckled.

Hermione smiled once and excused herself to the restroom, heading into Ron’s room after a glance over her shoulder indicated that she was not being observed. She shut the door behind her and texted both Ron and Harry.

 **Hermione:** _SOS_

Hermione took a deep breath and walked back out, afraid to cause any suspicion with a lengthy absence. When she returned to the front room Mag was on the floor. Hermione had just a moment to hope that she was unconscious and not dead before she was dodging a spell from her assailant. Her eyes darted around the room as she looked for her wand. She dodged another spell before striking back with a step forward, her fist colliding with his face. He stumbled back slightly, visibly surprised; he hadn't expected a psychical advance.

Hermione aimed a kick to his stomach while he was disoriented.

He fell and she kicked his wand from his hand.

She heard footsteps rushing up the stairs and hoped they were friendly. She rushed to Mag’s side. She was breathing.   _Thank god_ , Hermione thought.

Ron appeared then. “Is everyone alright?” he asked when be saw the fake auror on the floor.

“Mag is knocked out.”

Ron pulled the guy up and bound his hands with a charm. “Bloody hell. What did you do to him?” he took in the site of the bruised man.

“Seamus taught me a few things.”

“Wait a minute. This is Alexander Sandberg … he's one of the Death Eaters from that rehabilitation program.”

“The one I sponsored Malfoy in?”

“Don't remind me but yeah. His parents were Death Eaters. Guess he really is one too.” Ron started to drag him out. “What a waste.”

* * *

Hours later, after Ron and Hermione had seen that Mag was checked into in St. Mungos, Sandberg was being booked and processed. Harry pushed him forward and started to confiscate personal effects.

“You just ruined your life mate. You had a chance to be better,” he said disapproving. He did find it sad, really.

“It doesn't matter.”

“It should matter. You were given the chance to start over and you wasted it.”

“The Brotherhood is rising. We will reign supreme over you filthy blood traitors and mudbloods.”

Harry froze. “What did you just say?”

“Harry,” Ron made a gesture for Harry to join him across the room.

Harry crossed the room and came to stand beside Ron who produced a card. It was identical to the one Alma left Hermione.

“They found this when they were taking his personal effects. I made sure they'll be holding him without bail.”

Harry sighed. “I guess we know who to call.”

* * *

Ron roughly shoved Draco towards the chair in the interrogation room.

“Sit down,” Ron snapped.

“Is this going to take long?” Draco asked dryly. “I have patients that require my attention, like one of your Aurors.”

“There are plenty of other healers who can do your job, Malfoy.”

“Is this because of that dance with your sister at that Auror benefit? Because that's not a valid reason to detain me, Weasel,” a smirk spread across his face.

“Your wha--!”

“Ron! Stay on topic.” Harry ordered.

Ron didn't like this, he still didn't like Malfoy. Even if Hermione was able to to accept the new him and Harry was tolerant, Ron wasn't even close. “Does the Brotherhood of Purity mean anything to you?”

“What?”

“Do you know what this is?” Harry dropped the card onto the table.

“I'm sorry … should I?”

“Well, your buddy Sandberg was caught with it, and we recently got word that another one of your friends has one too. Not to mention the one they found on your father years ago.”

“What's its significance … wait, this doesn't have to do with Alma and professor Heartstone’s murders do they?” His eyes grew wide with terror at the next thought that crossed his mind. “Is Hermione a target?”

Their silence gave him his answer. He took a deep breath and just like that, the snarky attitude washed away, only to be replaced by a genuine fear.

“Potter,” he looked at Harry, “if I knew _anything_ about this, you would have too. I hope you can trust that I would have brought that information to you. Hermione risked her reputation to help me rebuild my own, I consider her - _she is_ \- a friend. I wouldn't do this. I would never be involved in something like this.”

“I think he's telling the truth, mate,” Harry crossed his arms, speaking to Ron but not breaking eye contact with Draco. “and we can't hold him without evidence.”

“Fine. Go.” Ron leaned against the wall, glaring at the floor. Quietly, Draco stood, nodded at the two, and left.

“Ron, you have to keep your head on straight. This is a case,” Harry put his hands on Ron’s shoulders.

“I need to find these guys.”

“We will-”

“Malfoy has to be lying. If anyone knows something it's him! You just let him walk!”

“Ron, listen. This is what they want. I know it’s ‘Mione but we have to focus on the case with clear heads.” he rested a hand in Ron’s arm.

“My head won't be clear until we get these guys,” he pulled away from Harry.

* * *

An hour later there was a knock on Ron’s office door.

“It's open,” he called, not looking up from the papers that were strewn across his desk.

“Auror Weasley,” said Harold, clearing his throat when he saw the two shadows in the room. “Hello Luis. Hope you're not giving Auror Weasley too much trouble … Anyways,” he looked back to Rom. “ Weasley, we have a code emerald in progress.”

“You boys can go home for the day.” said Ron, already standing and heading towards the fireplace. “Thank you Auror Lark, I appreciate you keeping me updated on this.” --just like that, he was gone through the floo.

When Ron stepped out of the fireplace on the other side he found himself in a cold, damp room. He shivered but pushed his way forward to speak to one of the guards.

“There was recently a request put in to meet with Lucius Malfoy.”

“Yes. His son Draco made an appointment. He should be here any minute.”

“I want eyes on the visiting room.”

Ron was lead though to the a series of hallways until they reached a room with a large window made from one way glass and a few chairs.

“Thank you.”

The guard left.

Fifteen minutes later Draco arrived in the visiting room and took a seat. Ron watched as Lucius was lead inside, and he took a seat. Draco sat down as well, his back to the one way glass Ron watched through.

“Father, I need to ask you about the Brotherhood of Purity.”

“No hello?” the man asked. When Draco silently stared at him, he shrugged, and moved on. “What do you need to know about them?”

“So you know about them?”

“Of course I know them. They're a part of our family's history, Draco.”

“They're becoming active again. They've killed two people already, probably more. Were you a member?”

“Not officially, my father was, your grandfather Joffrey, and his father before him. I was involved a little as a teen but by then it was just a bunch of old farts sitting around with half-arsed delusions of grandeur. I mean, honestly the women got together to play bridge while the men smoked cigars … if they're actually getting stuff done it must be a new generation acting in their name.” Lucius shrugged. “Why do you care so much?”

Draco stood. “Because every second of the last half a decade has been spent trying to start a new life for myself. You being involved in this would not only hurt my reputation but also you, because I swear, if I find out you're lying, and you had _anything_ to do with this, you and I will no longer have a relationship.”

“What does your mother think of all this?”

“Well, she asked my sponsor if she knows how to write up divorce papers.”

“I see.”

“I hope you're not surprised, we told you we are _done_ with this life a long time ago.”

“It's a good thing then that just this once I am an innocent man.”

Draco left and Ron stayed seated in the surveillance room, processing the information he had gathered.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where Seamus and Dean go to visit Seamus's parents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [[Warnings: Homophobia, toxic masculinity, mild sexual content  
> AN: Another Deamus chapter]]

When Dean entered Seamus’s small upstairs bedroom for the first time in almost a decade, the first thing he noticed was an extra cot that had been set up. His eyes then fell on Seamus's old bed, directly across from the door. It still bore the same quilt it had almost a decade ago. For all its meagerness, the room was larger than the one Dean had grown up in. The walls were a light blue and the cursed bed was a four poster, much like the ones they slept in at Hogwarts, saving the lack of curtains.

There was one window off to the side that looked out into Seamus’s neighbourhood. It was a smaller, almost suburban area. They only had two secondary schools and two shopping areas.

Dean cursed under his breath before setting his bag down by the cot.

“What?” Seamus vocalised, plopping down on the bed.

“I really hate that bed.”

“Okay…” Seamus trailed off, hoping Dean would elaborate.

“I'm sorry,” Dean composed himself. “I was just thinking about the last time we were here,” he admitted, staring down and kicking at the floor awkwardly.

“Oh,” replied Seamus. He was silent and thoughtful for a moment after that. 

Dean heard the door click behind him, and he turned to his head in the direction of the sound, expecting to see Mr. or Mrs. Finnegan; however, the door was closed. When he looked back at Seamus, he was putting his wand away.

“Did you lock the door?” 

Seamus gave a nod and beckoned Dean forward with both hands. Their flight had gotten in late so they decided to go straight to bed, which Seamus’s parents hadn't questioned as it was nearly half one. 

“Come on,” he urged, wanting Dean to come sit with him. Dean started towards him, but couldn’t ignore the feeling of a sharp claw starting to twist around in his lower belly. 

_ You nutter, you fought a war and you're afraid of a bloody bed? _ He thought to himself, but he still hesitated.

“Dean, it's a bed, not a Death Eater,” said Seamus gently. Dean quickly decided that he was being stupid, took a deep breath before making his way across the room to the bed.

“Right, sorry,” he said as he quickly dismissed his current train of thought and put his knees on either side of Seamus’s legs, looking down at him. Seamus raised an eyebrow at him. Dean hadn’t exactly been … forward lately, not that Seamus was necessarily bothered by that, so seeing Dean suddenly take the lead was surprising. The taller man leaned down and caught Seamus’s lips with his own. “It  _ is  _ a bed.” He kissed him softly and and his hands went up into Seamus’s hair, which had grown out a little in the last few months. Dean smiled against his lips. 

“I like your hair longer,” he commented as he tugged gently, pulling him in for another kiss. Seamus returned each kiss eagerly. “So handsome.”

Dean’s kisses weren't rushed, but they were smouldering. He took his time, their lips moving moving together almost unconsciously. Heat began to pool in Seamus’s stomach and he flushed slightly over getting excited so quickly, the evidence apparent between them.

“Sorry,” He mumbled around Dean’s lips. “I feel like a bloody teenager.” 

Dean pulled back to look at him, grinning.

“It’s okay. But do you  _ want _ to stop?”

“Of course not,” replied Seamus as he slipped a hand under Dean’s shirt to feel the smooth skin of his stomach under his fingers. Dean kissed along Seamus’s jaw, still not in any real rush. When he reached where his jaw faded into his neck he started to suck lightly between kisses, leaving his tongue against the skin. “I should bring you home more often,” Seamus bit his lip as Dean’s teeth grazed his throat, paying plenty of attention to his boyfriend’s neck. When he was finished with that he moved down, leaving large splotches of pink across Seamus’s pale skin. Nothing a concealment charm or the salve in Dean’s bag wouldn't get rid of.

They ended up on on their sides, legs tangled together. The two just laid intertwined, exchanging soft kisses whenever they felt like it. Tonight, Seamus liked to fixate on Dean’s collarbone, while Dean was a bit lost in Seamus’s neck.

“Well, that was fun,” Seamus chuckled. 

Dean reached over to cup Seamus’s face in his hand, a thumb softly gliding across his cheekbone.

“But I think it's your turn to talk to me, Dean.” He moved closer and pressed their foreheads together. 

When he didn't reply, retreating into his mind to try to find the words to describe what he felt, Seamus raised one hand to walk up Dean’s arm. Dean reached up and snatched his wrist in his hand. The two never had trouble communicating, it was second nature to them.

But lately ... it was hard.

“Dean, are you trying to tell me that you have a grudge against my bed because I rejected you?” His thick eyebrows pulled together.

“No.” Dean let out a sigh and rolled to lay flat on his back, one hand under his head.

“Okay,” said Seamus, urging him to continue.

“I was laying here - right here - the first time there was a divide between us, and I had to make a choice.” He stared at the ceiling as he spoke, remembering it. 

“Yeah. I was thinking about that too.”

“I was trying to decide what I would do about it.” 

“What were you going to decide?”

“I don't know,” said Dean truthfully.

“What were your options?” 

“It’s not worth talking about anymore,” said Dean, looking away from Seamus to press his face into his neck. 

“I want to know,” he insisted, tilting Dean's chin up to look at him 

“Well … I was thinking we could move forward with the divide, and not let it - this - become anything. We could move on and leave everything as… you know like it was when we were kids? I figured we could just branch out and meet other people … keep our history as an innocent friendship.  _ If we lived _ .” It felt so weird talking about it outloud. “I thought about you marrying someone else. Like Harry or something if he ever came out or something. Maybe I would marry Luna.” he sighed. “It would have been fine if it turned out that way, I would have been happy. Maybe we both could have been happier,” he mused, thinking about the situation they were in now. “But I guess our hearts had other plans,” a soft laugh emitted from his throat. 

Seamus kissed his adam’s apple. “What were the other options?” he pried. He was now laying on his stomach with a pillow under his chin.

“I could have gotten out of this bed and left the friendship we spent an entire era building in that little gap between us on the bed.” He tilted his head to look at Seamus. “But I didn’t like that option very much.” 

Seamus touched his arm. He was glad he hadn't picked that option. 

“Then I thought about how we could just do whatever we wanted, while we could. Because we were probably going to die anyways. I wanted to hold onto you and just … feel something while I could. I could have cried into your shoulder, maybe you would have cried with me.” Dean closed his eyes. 

“Well?” Prompted Seamus. “Which were you going to choose?” He sat up, looking down at Dean, knowing that things were different then. “I mean. I know what happened, obviously … but what did you want  _ right then _ ?” Seamus was forced to consider the fact that Dean might had wanted to leave.

“I didn't have to choose.The Death Eaters took my choice from me when they were spotted south and we had to run.”

“I don't think you would have left.”

Dean nodded once. “I don't think I would have either,” his fingers trailed down Seamus’s cheekbone. “Then we got separated and I had no idea if you were alive or where you were.”

They laid there for a bit, enjoying each other's closeness. 

“The plane ride was interesting.”

“Is that good or bad?” Asked Seamus as he restlessly leaned up onto his side again. When Seamus learned that Dean had never been on a plane before, they’d decided to get a flight.

“I think brooms are more fun, but it was an experience. Also it was cute when landing freaked you out,” he teased.

“Shut up! It feels like you're crashing,” Seamus laughed, a soft sound. “Loads of people are uneasy during that part, even if they aren’t flying for the first time.” 

“The little girl in front of us was adorable.” In the seats in front of them was a family of three whose young daughter wanted to talk to  _ every person _ on the plane,determined to tell everyone that her name was Lucy and she was four. Dean was more than happy to humour her, even if the girl’s parents were a little put off by his friendliness.

“You were good with her,” commented Seamus, looking at the ceiling. 

“I like kids,” he shrugged. “but you know that.” Seamus remembered that Dean had mentioned more than a few times that he considered going into pediatric healing. 

“Yeah.”

“Do you like kids?” He realised Seamus had never really given a strong opinion either way.

“I like kids,” Seamus smiled. “Since we’re talking about that …” He trailed off. “I want to ask a question.”

“Yeah?”

“Do we have … options?”

“I don't understand what you're asking.”

“If we wanted to have kids, is that something we’re even allowed to do?” 

“Why wouldn't we be allowed to have kids?”

“Muggles don’t really let … couples like us do anything. Like, we can't even get married, not in this country anyways.”

“Oh, yeah.” Dean nodded. “We have options. We have a lot of options actually.” He told him. He was surprised Seamus had asked, truly. “You want kids?”

“Yeah. I mean we have a hundred years or more to talk about it but I wanted to make sure we could.” 

“Oh yeah. No rush. I just don't want you to agree to something because I want it.”

“I’d want at least two,” said Seamus after a moment. 

“Two sounds nice,” Dean agreed, turning over and pressing a kiss to Seamus’s forehead. 

Not long later, Seamus moved to the extra cot in the room and went to sleep. 

“I hope you know that I don't regret any of this. No matter what happens with my dad.”

* * *

The next Morning Dean woke first and started to go through his bag, pulling out the minimal muggle clothing he brought. Seamus got up a bit later. 

“What are you doing?” He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and stood to find Dean putting random outfits together on the cot.

“I'm trying to figure out what to wear when I go downstairs,” he swapped some shirts around with bottoms. He had started to become anxious after the first ten minutes; an hour in he had graduated to rather frustrated. He didn't know anything about muggle clothes. He hadn't worn them in years. 

“Why?”

“I can't wear robes downstairs,” Dean ran a hand over his hair. “I also don't remember like anything about muggle clothes. Can you help me?”

“Dean, it's half seven.” Seamus stood and headed over to his boyfriend whom he could tell was feeling anxious. He certainly didn't blame him. He was nervous as well, if for other reasons. “My mom wears robes all the time and my dad will probably be in silk pyjamas. Anything will be fine.” He assured him with a light kiss on the cheek. 

“Are you sure? I can run home and get something else,” he offered, looking between the two shirts in his hands. Seamus took both his hands.

“You're not going back to England to get an outfit,” he laughed. “Wear the white t-shirt with a pair of jeans.It makes your arms look great,” he winked.

Dean was halfway through changing when there was a knock on the door. He quickly pulled up his jeans, buttoning them while Seamus got the door. In the doorway there was a tall woman with sandy hair like Seamus’s. 

“Good morning boys,” she said with a small smile. “May I come in?”

“Yeah,” said Seamus moving aside. She hugged Seamus in a very motherly fashion.

“It’s so good to see you,” she said before turning to Dean, who was surprised when he received a hug as well. He returned it with only a little bit of awkwardness.

“I'll do my best to keep your father civil,” she told Seamus.

“What do you mean?”

“Well. He’s the only one who doesn't know why you're here.”

“I'm here for Christmas,” responded Seamus.  _ How could she possibly know?  _ he thought.

“Seamus, I'm your mother. I know everything,” she replied simply.

“What did Granger tell you?” he asked seriously.

“Seamus, she didn't have to tell me anything. It's going to be fine,” she assured him, squeezing his shoulder comfortingly.

“Do you think he'll like me?” Asked Dean despite himself. 

“I think …” Mrs. Finnigan paused. “I think he will. When he warms up to you,” she smiled.

Dean nodded once and they headed downstairs. 

“There’s my boy.” Said Mr. Finnigan.“It's been too long since I saw you!” He greeted his son with a hug.

“It's good to see you, Dad,” he replied. Seamus had been right, Mr. Finnigan wore blue silk pyjamas.

“And you're … Dean?” said Mr. Finnigan. Dean nodded and extended a hand.

“Yes sir. It’s great to finally meet you,” he replied. The last time Dean had been here, he hadn't really met him properly; too much going on.

They sat down to breakfast then.

“So you're one of those policemen--things now,” stated Mr. Finnigan.

“Yes Dad, an auror. I fight dark wizards. Currently, however, I'm working security for a high profile individual who's at risk,” he clarified. His eyes never left his father’s face, even when they say down to eat.

“Don't know what took you so long to pursue it.”

“Well,” started Dean. “Seamus has a really strong worth ethic.” He took a sip of orange juice. 

“What does that have to do with it?” Seamus’s father was confused.

“Well, he didn't want to take a job that was just handed to him. He has a lot of pride.” Dean explained.

Seamus excused himself to the toilet, unable to handle the pressure of the situation. He wasn't nearly as bold around his family as he was with his friends.

“Handed to him?” He raised his eyebrows.

“Kingsley - um, the Minister of Magic,” started Dean, clarifying, “offered a place as an auror for everyone who served in the Battle of Hogwarts without the long training process most of them go through. And if Seamus became an auror, he wanted to earn it, training and all.”

“Oh,” said Mr Finnigan. “I didn't know how involved he was. I knew it was a little but not enough to earn a title like that.” He seemed surprised and impressed. “I guess that explains why he's a bit … You know how he is.” He made a gesture of his index finger circling his ear.

“We were all affected. I have classmates who have been institutionalised, because their minds have been so damaged from the Death Eaters that they don't know where, or even who they are,” explained Dean, admittedly starting to feel a little tense.

“I don't understand what you're implying.” Mr. Finnigan replied.

“I'm just saying that … Seamus, and I ... We’re very lucky that we walked away from everything. Some of our friends didn’t get that privilege. So I would like if you didn't imply he was crazy.”

“Was it really that bad? He needs to shake it off. It's been ten years.”

“Sir. “When we were sixteen, we stepped over the bodies of our classmates and friends. Some of them as young as eleven. Then, we did it all over again a year later. We were children and we fought against adults who had no problem leaving a body count.” 

“There were two battles? I've served some time in the army myself.” 

“Shocking.” replied Dean. It was apparent to him that Seamus wasn’t even moderately comfortable talking to his father about anything that went on in his life. It made Dean sad in a way. He hoped that they could find a way to come together.

“You didn't tell him anything?” Dean asked Mrs. Finnigan.

“At the time, he didn't want to know,” she replied. She seemed almost relieved in a way that Dean was telling him these things. 

“Anyways. Seamus makes good wages,” said Dean. “I reckon it's only a matter of time before he settles down.” Dean looked up at Mr. Finnigan as Seamus returned to the table.

“That's good. I hope he finds a nice girl soon.”  

“Me too, dad.” Said Seamus, He honestly was starting to regret his decision to come and breakfast wasn't even over yet.

“You would be great with that Laura girl.” 

“Dad, Laura is like … really young,” argued Seamus. “Didn’t she just turn nineteen?” It felt more than a little weird having his dad trying to set him up with girls in front of Dean.

“Yeah, well,” he shrugged. “She's been making some weird choices lately. I figured she could use a nice Catholic boy like you to straighten her out.”

Dean snorted into his orange juice and Seamus smacked his arm.

“Shut up!” He laughed light-heartedly.

“Sorry,” Dean half-apologised, still chuckling.

“She doesn't need to be straightened out,” interrupted Mrs. Finnigan. “She and Helen are very happy together.”

“Helen?” Asked Dean. 

“Her ‘ _ partner _ ’ -” Mr. Finnigan used air quotes “- or whatever they're calling it these days. It’s just not right. I'm sure Dean knows what I mean,” he said dismissively.

“Actually, I don't,” said Dean a bit tight lipped. 

“Ah, well-” 

“The wizarding world has different priorities. We welcome all kinds of couples. I went to a beautiful wedding when I was twenty. Sean and Kyle are very happy together to this day,” he smiled.

“Your lot let's them get  _ married _ ? That's just not right.”

Seamus’s grip on his glass tightened and Dean could tell he was starting to shut down. He placed a hand on Seamus’s leg under the table and gave it a reassuring squeeze. 

“Honey,” said Mrs. Finnigan, “why don't you show the boys your, uh, man cave?” 

“I've got flat screen,” bragged Mr. Finnigan, headed downstairs without a second thought.

“You know, I'm still tired from the red-eye flight,” said Seamus, who stood and headed upstairs with the ease his father had just displayed. Dean watched him go. He wanted to go after him but couldn’t this time, not right away anyways. He just watched him disappear up the stairs.

When Dean got downstairs he could see the basement was covered in memorabilia that he did not recognize. 

“What's this?” Asked Dean as he came across a ball. Glass encased the sphere, giving the young wizard the assumption that it was important. It looked very old and Dean likened it a quaffle. 

“That's the game ball from when I was at school. I played footie until I graduated.”

“Footie?”

“Football.”

“I don't know that sport, sir. Sorry.”

“Blimey you don't know footie? it's only the best sport,” he looked at Dean with raised eyebrows. 

“No,” he laughed a little. “I’ll admit, I don't know much about muggle sports. My sister was dating a rugby fan for a while though, so I know a little about that,” he told him, so as to not appear totally out of touch. “What's footie like?” 

Mr. Finnigan launched into a full scale explanation of the game, including his own very biased opinions of which teams Dean should route for. What Dean took away from the conversation was that muggle sports were weird and that he could see himself becoming friends with Seamus’s dad, if he came around. He really hoped he would come around.

When Dean returned to the room upstairs, Seamus was working at a punching bag that Dean was certain wasn't having in the corner when they arrived.

“I didn't know you boxed,” commented Dean, locking the door before plopping himself on Seamus’s bed. 

“I don't really,” replied Seamus, breathless. “When I was thirteen my dad decided I was tense and needed a way to vent. Nothing girly like talking about it though, of course not. He had me hit things.” His fists hit the bag after almost every word.

“Come sit with me.”

Dean’s words were ignored, Seamus was too wrapped up in his actions. He didn't want to think, he didn't want to feel. He just wanted to keep punching until his mind was as numb as his hands were raw. 

The edges of Dean’s mouth turned down and he stood from the bed. Dean had always wondered why Seamus’s hands were so torn up and calloused whenever he returned to school after fourth year, but he had never asked. Now he would never have to.

He crossed the room and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“‘ _ Shay _ .” his tone was soft, but also serious.

Seamus stopped but didn't say anything.

“Come sit with me.” he managed to lead Seamus back to the bed.

Once Seamus was seated on the end of the bed Dean carefully reached for one of his hands, removing one of the gloves and setting it beside him on the bed. Seamus’s eyes stayed on the floor and Dean continued with the other glove, setting it aside with the first. He took his hands.

“Hey,” murmured Dean. “I'm sorry you had to listen to that. We'll make him understand.” he wrapped Seamus up in his arms as he spoke. Seamus didn't say anything for a long time, he just hid his face in the crook of Dean’s neck. He forced himself to breathe evenly; to hold himself together.

Dean frowned and cupped the back of his head.

“I got you, ‘Shay. It's going to be alright.” 

After what felt like hours, for both of them, Seamus pulled away.

“Want to go do something? I need to get out of this house.”

“I would love that,” replied Dean with a small smile. “Show me where you grew up.” 

Seamus stood and they changed into warmer clothes before heading out. To their left, Seamus’s neighbour was bringing out her trash.

“Oh my goodness,” said the woman when she looked at them. She was an older woman, about the same age as Seamus’s mom. “Seamus, is that you?” 

“Sure is! How have you been Mrs. Neilson?” He greeted her as he walked up to the fence and smiled. 

“Oh, same old, same old.” She shrugged. “You're so big I can’t get over it! Feels like just yesterday you and my boy Sam were trudging through my rose bushes!” She laughed. “And who's this?” She asked, referring to Dean.

“This is my friend Dean. He was one of my roomates at school.” 

“Oh yes of course,” she nodded, extending a hand, which Dean shook. “I'm Mindy Neilson.”

“Pleasure,” he said politely before they continued on.

Neither of them spoke again until they were off the block.

“She was nice,” commented Dean.

“Oh she's great. Badgered me for a Hogwarts sweatshirt for years so I found a Catholic boarding school in Scotland with the same name and sent her one from there,” he laughed at the memory.

“Speaking of, you never told me you were Catholic.” Dean mused. 

“I mean, I'm not really.”

“Oh.”

“I never talked about it at school because I didn't see anyone else talking about it. I kind of believe in God though,” he shrugged. “Sometimes more than others.” 

“That's interesting.” 

“Not really. It's pretty common here.” 

He lead Dean a few more blocks up. They came to stop at a medium sized drive-in shopping centre with a little under a dozen stores.

“Where do you want to go first?” Seamus asked.

“Let's stop at the bakery.” He suggested and they slipped inside. The bakery was small, only really enough for a few people. The two men looked in the display case, which was filled with all different types of pastries.

“Um … Question ... How does muggle money work?”

“I actually prefer gold. Less to worry about.” He admitted with a laugh. 

“Can I help you?” Asked a young girl behind the counter. She was probably in her mid teens.

“Aye,” started Seamus, sliding slightly out of the weird Hogwarts vernacular he had grown accustomed to away from home. “Mr. O'Flaherty isn’t in today is he?”

“He's not in today but I'll let you know you stopped by, um…” 

“Seamus Finnigan. I grew up here, he might not remember me though,” he shrugged.

“I'm sure he will,” she smiled. “So, can I get you two anything?” 

“Yeah,” he looked to Dean. “Babe?” 

“I’ve never been here, remember?” He laughed. “Let's get your favourite.”

“Alright, can we get half a dozen apple filled, and half a dozen vanilla donuts, and one of everything on the top row?”

“I wasn’t aware Ron was joining us.” Dean nudged his arm.

“Oh belt up.” Seamus laughed and rolled his eyes. 

“Sure, just a sec,” she smiled and headed to the back to get a box. “So you're local? I don't recognize you.” 

“I haven't been back in years. He’s not from here though.” Seamus jabbed a thumb at Dean.

“Okay, your total is thirty even.” Seamus pulled out his wallet, passing her two twenties. “That’s neat. I bet it's nice to be home.” 

“I thought you used pounds?” Dean asked. The girl looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

“His parents raised him overseas,” said Seamus before looking to Dean.

“Yeah. I'm from Canada,” he lied smoothly.

“Oh neat. What do you think of the town so far?” The girl asked, handing Seamus a receipt and his order. Dean took the box of donuts and carefully balanced the bag of other pastries on it. 

“It’s cute,” said Dean. “I live in a big city so it's definitely a change of pace. I think I like this better.” He admitted with a laugh, falling easily into small talk.

Eventually they headed out of the shop.

“This town is friendly,” Dean smiled and started to walk down the way to see the other shops. There really wasn't much though. They continued to walk until they found the bench in front of the shoe store. It was metal with blue paint that's chipping away. 

“It’s somethin’,” replied Seamus. He could see his breath fog up in the air as he remembered his childhood. The only place Seamus knew better than this was Hogwarts, but it didn't hold the same warmth as Hogwarts did. Dean wrapped an arm around his waist. 

“Winter in a small town, very romantic,” commented Dean as he laid his head against Seamus. “I'm glad that I could see the town with you.”

“Me too,” he closed his eyes for a second before he smiled and sat up a little straighter. “Anything you'd like to do?”

“Well … um … Can we see the bank?” He asked sheepishly, a little embarrassed about asking to see something so mundane. 

“Yes we can go to the bank,” Seamus said, forcing himself to repress a chuckle as he stood. “It’s a bit of a walk though, we'll have to go straight back if we want time to get home before Mom thinks we got bashed or something,” he mumbled.  

“Bashed?” Dean raised his eyebrows. He wasn’t familiar with the term.

“Gay-bashed.” 

“I don't follow.”

“Gay bashing is when you get the crap kicked out of ya just for being or looking gay.”

“That's a concern?” 

“Yes, a fairly considerable one actually.”

“If you don't feel secure we don't have to--” he pulled his hand back from Seamus’s slightly.

Seamus took his hand again.

“I'm not scared of a bunch of ijiits who can't accept differences.” 

They walked in silence for a but until Dean spoke again.

“Okay.” Dean nodded. “So, are there any wizarding villages nearby?” Asked Dean as they walked. He wanted to see more of Ireland in the short time that they were there.

“There’s a few wizarding villages closer to Dublin, and their club scene isn't bad. We could check it out tonight if you want.”

“That sounds like fun. It's been awhile since we had time for something like that.”

“I don't think we’ve  _ ever  _ had time for something like that.”

“You're right.” 

When they finally got to the bank Dean took in their environment. It was a small building, with a row of windows towards the back. In the center was a counter with pens chained to it, which is the main thing Dean noticed.

“This is … interesting,” said Dean as they stepped into the quiet lobby. He was being honest of course. He really wasn't sure what to expect, but he certainly wasn't disappointed either. He leaned down slightly and whispered, “Why are the pens locked up?”

“Wait here,” said Seamus unable to stifle his grin before he headed up to one of the windows. He spoke briefly with one of the tellers who looked at him strangely before disappearing to the back of the bank. Dean headed over to the the table in the middle of the room and began to fiddle with one of the pens chained to the table. When Seamus returned he held an envelope in his hands. 

“You're going to be grateful gold by the end of this,” he laughed before they returned to the house. 

When they were in Seamus’s room Seamus sat on the floor and laid out the money he’d gotten from the bank on the floor. 

“Why do muggles have so much currency?” Dean asked, surprised.

“I've been asking myself that since my first trip to Diagon Alley,” replied Seamus as he started to explain the various coins and bills.

“I take back my willingness to live in the muggle world,” Dean said jokingly.

The next morning Seamus and Dean went back into town to check out some of the other shops. They stopped by the bakery again and Seamus was surprised to see someone he knew.

“Seamus Finnigan?” a tall ginger haired man stopped to look at him.

“Hi Connor,” Seamus’s eyes fell on the little girl in Connor’s arm. She had his blue eyes and pasty complexion but her face was framed by thick brown ringlets that fell down to her shoulders.

Seamus glanced at the child then back at the man.

“Oh, this is Carly, my daughter.”

“Hi Carly,” he waved to the girl then looked back to Connor. “This is my boyfriend Dean.”

“There you are, honey!” A tall brunette appeared. “We have to get Carly to your mother's by noon,” she reminded him, taking the girl into her arms. 

“Right. Well… it was nice seeing you again Seamus,” said Connor before leaving with his wife.

“He seems nice,” said Dean casually.

“Yeah. You know, I’m not really hungry. Do you mind if we grab some air instead?” 

“Yeah, of course.” 

Seamus reached out and took Dean’s hand, holding it tightly in his own. They made it about a block down before Dean finally said something.

“Do you have some bad blood with that guy?” Dean stopped, rubbing circles into the back of Seamus’s hand with his thumb. 

Seamus didn't say anything for a minute, the two just watched their breath create clouds in the cold for a time.

“I love you.” Seamus finally spoke. 

“I love you.”

Seamus leaned in and pressed his lips to Dean’s. 

“What's wrong?” Dean placed his hands on Seamus’s shoulders. 

“Connor is gay.”

“He's married to a woman.”

“He never came out. This town got to him.”

“What do you mean, 'this town got to him'?”

“Most of the time when you're gay in a place like this, you keep your mouth shut and your head down until it kills you or you marry the first girl who will take you.” Seamus stuffed his hands into his pockets. “If I didn't get out of this town like I did ... I probably would have ended up like Connor. If I even made it that far.” 

“Seamus … I wish I knew what to say.”

“You don't have to say anything. Just being here reminds me of feelings I used to have. All the bullshit my dad and these people fed me that I'm still trying to unlearn.” 

“The last time we were here, you were afraid of your dad seeing us, weren't you? Is that why you shut me out?” Dean asked carefully as he tried to process what Seamus had just told him.

Seamus nodded once.

“Is that why you slept on the cot last night?”

He nodded again.

“Seamus, listen to me babe, we never have to come back here. If you want to cut off your dad and leave, then we’ll do that. We can leave right now. I will support whatever you need to do.”

They stood in silence for a moment, Dean continuing to rub circles into Seamus’s hand while he thought. 

“Will you help me talk to my dad?”

* * *

Mr. Finnigan sat on the sofa in the living room, his eyes on a muggle newspaper. 

“Dad, we need to talk to you,” said Seamus. 

Mr. Finnigan looked up. “Yeah?”

“Dad, I-” Seamus stopped.

“What?” 

“Dean … let's go,” he said, suddenly afraid that he couldn't go through with it.

“It’s okay,” Dean said softly, taking Seamus’s hand and looking Mr. Finnegan in the eye.

“If you have something to say, Seamus then put with it!” Mr Finnegan rolled his eyes. He waited as Seamus stared at him. A minute passed. “What's the hold up? You've gone wonky since that whole thing.”

“Oi, he's trying. Dont talk to him like that.”

“You're out of line.”

“No, you are. Seamus has spent the last few years destroying himself, overworking at a job that  _ you  _ would approve of but that does nothing but remind him every single day of what he survived and what haunts him. What haunts all of us. Dealing with problems that you seem to just mock him for,” Dean went on. “All to try to make sure that you will come around and accept him for who he is, and I'm not going to let him do that anymore. He is literally killing himself for your approval and I will  _ not _ let him.”

“What are you talking about?” Mr. Finnigan was lost.

“Dad. Dean and I don't live in an awkwardly renovated apartment  together because rent in England is expensive. I make enough on my own to have a two story  _ house _ . We live together …” he took a deep breath.  _ Now or nothing _ , he thought to himself. “We live together because we  _ are  _ together. I never said anything because I was afraid of what you would say, of you. But I'm tired of being afraid of you,” said Seamus, gripping the back of Dean’s shirt discreetly. 

“What are you saying?” Asked Mr. Finnigan, crossing his arms.

“Dad, I'm saying that I came here, for the first time in  _ years _ , with Dean. So you could see that he is a great guy, and I could show you that I'm well off and not messing around. I know that this isn't what you wanted me to be like but I thought if you saw how serious I was that you would understand that we’re going to get married. I wanted you to see us and understand that your prejudice is stupid and ancient. I’m gay and I can't keep going on like this, being afraid of you.” Seamus watched his dad’s face carefully. 

His heart dropped, he'd never seen his father look so  _ disappointed _ . The older man didn't say anything, after looking at Seamus for a moment.

“I hoped that if you liked him you would change your mind about-” Seamus started but his father cut him off with a cold look.

“You're an adult now. You make your choices and I make mine. I have nothing more to say to you as long as you're with him,” he replied, disappearing down the stairs.

Mrs. Finnigan appeared in the doorway.

“I'll talk to him.”

“Don't bother.” Seamus turned to Dean. “Let's go home.”

“Seamus. This is your home too. You don't have to go anywhere, you can stay,” his mother insisted.

“No thanks. I don't really want to hang around.”

“Dean, do you want to take the muggle plane again?”

“No,” said Dean. 

“Good, neither do I.” 

“Thank you for having me, Mrs. Finnigan. I'm sorry things didn't quite go as planned.”

“If you want, you can come by mine and Dean’s next year. Maybe Christmas Eve, or the day ... that's fine, but I am not coming back here.”

She stepped forward and hugged her son tightly. “I'm so sorry, Seamus. I will talk to him. He’ll come around.”

The boys headed up to Seamus’s room to get their bags before they apparated home. 

Once in their apartment, Seamus didn't speak. Dean moved to comfort him but was gently rejected.

“I'll be upstairs if you need me, okay?” he murmured, kissing his forehead before disappearing up the stairs. 


End file.
